A Study in Genres
by mrspencil
Summary: Continuing a series started by Lemon Zinger, running through the listed fanfiction genres. A Study in Family:Three Moor Brothers
1. HurtComfort

_a/n: this is in response to Lemon Zinger's excellent "a Study in Angst", which put the duo through all manner of trials and tribulations. At the end of all that trauma, Watson started to sneeze..._

_second a/n: Since posting this, Lemon Zinger and I have decided to put Holmes and Watson through all the other genres of fanfiction, so this verse is likely to move across to her account at some point to join in :)_

_I may owe A.A. Milne an apology_

_I do not own Holmes or any of his companions._

**

* * *

**

A study in hurt/comfort?

* * *

Dr John Watson was sneezing and wheezing,

Holmes bundled him back into bed.

The Doctor protested he really felt rested,

'Twas only a cold in the head.

Although he resisted, his comrade insisted

His bedroom was where he must stay.

Past cases had shown that those symptoms alone

Could threaten his life in one day.

He'd go from quite sickly, to moribund quickly

If any slight cough was ignored.

He had to prepare with meticulous care

As his temperature rapidly soared.

Holmes knew what was needed when health was impeded;

Thick blankets and poultices too,

And potions to swallow, as fever would follow

And dire complications ensue.

He cancelled appointments, bought powders and ointments,

Boiled kettles as fast as he could,

And intently perused any cloths Watson used,

In case he was coughing up blood.

He made the assumption it could be consumption,

And result in a fatal decline,

But Watson declared he should not be so scared,

As he honestly felt pretty fine.

And Holmes answered gravely, "You're acting so bravely,

To hide the sad truth from your friend.

I know to my sorrow, you may die tomorrow,

A poignant and fever-filled end.

I've read all the tales where your health swiftly fails,

And the light starts to fade from your eyes.

I am destined to sit while you suffer a bit,

And wait for your tragic demise."

Holmes sat up all night, kept the Doctor in sight,

Convinced he'd be breathing his last.

He stayed there till morning; the new day now dawning

Declared his long vigil had passed.

Holmes regarded his friend, who seemed quite near the end.

Could that be a tear in his eye?

He sat down by the bed, and then lowered his head,

To hear his friend's whispered reply.

Holmes declared,"My brave man, rest your voice if you can.

It sounds so incredibly weak!"

( Thick blankets which pressed fairly hard round his chest

Had made it an effort to speak.)

As daylight was breaking, Holmes' poor heart was aching,

Awaiting his comrade's sad death.

He walked from the room as his thoughts filled with doom,

Prepared for the Doctor's last breath.

So weighed down with cares, he descended the stairs,

A thud made him stop, turn his head.

He deduced that the sound was bare feet hitting ground

As blankets were flung from a bed.

Then Watson appeared, all his symptoms had cleared,

Unlike in the tales he'd been told.

Holmes could scarcely believe he had failed to perceive

That a cold could be simply…a cold!

* * *

The end


	2. Westerns 1

_a/n: This one is for Lemon Zinger and is the third of a series in verse, working through the different genres of fan fiction available on this site. Lemon Zinger started with her excellent "a study in angst". We initially decided to leave "western " out, as not being particularly compatible with the characters, I will leave it to you to judge whether I should have stuck with that decision..._

_There are references to various ACD characters, and a number of hints and plot strands and chapter titles related to classic western films. Regard this as a tribute to them:)_

_Many, many thanks to medcat for beta reading this:) And to sagredo and nytd for ornithological input :)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_AU-the tale of events which may have unfolded if Baker Street and London , just for one day, moved a lot nearer the Wild West than is normally expected... _

**

* * *

**

**1/ Once upon a time in the west**

* * *

The sun was slowly rising on a cloudless day in June,

A mockingbird was chirping out a morning chorus tune.

The warmth and light ensured that night-time fears were swept away,

But all was not quite normal on that flawless summer's day…

* * *

A stranger rode on horseback down the length of Baker Street,

Tumbleweed rolled slowly past his spurs and boot-clad feet.

He hitched his horse securely, stood and pounded on a door.

At last he'd found the house he'd spent the whole night looking for.

* * *

The birdsong ceased abruptly as he pounded, long and loud.

He heard, within, two voices, so stood waiting, tall and proud.

He counted stair-trod footsteps, made it seventeen in all,

The door was opened cautiously, two men stood in the hall.

* * *

The first, a lean and hawk-like dude, with dressing gown and pipe,

The second, with moustache and cane, a shorter, solid type.

He tipped his well-worn Stetson, "Gents, I bid you both good day,

I have travelled far to find you as there's trouble on the way."

* * *

The taller of the duo looked the stranger up and down,

Deduced his place of origin was far from London town.

A patterned woven poncho served the purpose of a coat,

A neckerchief, quite worn and frayed, was knotted at his throat.

* * *

The red dust on his clothing was an unfamiliar hue,

Fatigue etched on his face revealed a sleepless night or two,

His hands were scarred and calloused; he'd a lazy, measured squint,

But as for what his name was? Well, the stranger gave no hint.

* * *

He stepped across the threshold, when they bade him, "come inside."

A lean and sun-burned figure with a loping, easy stride.

He took his spurs and Stetson off; his eyes were sharp and pale,

And over beans and coffee this tall stranger told his tale.

* * *

"I've rode all night to find you, with a warning from a friend,

There's many folk around who'd like to bring about your end.

Bad men you got the better of have sworn to make you pay.

They've formed a gang of outlaws and are heading out your way.

* * *

And Holmes replied quite calmly, "Can we trust this tale you tell?"

The stranger drawled, "The origin's a gal you know quite well.

I met her at a school house; she's a feisty little dame.

She says she owes a favour, Violet Hunter is her name."

* * *

"I promised I would find you both, I always keep my word."

A quick exchange of glances showed surprise at what they heard.

They bid the man continue, now convinced his tale was true,

And knowing there'd be trouble long before the day was through.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	3. Westerns 2

_A/N: As per part 1. I appear to have discovered that there are a few fans of the old westerns out there..._

_Many thanks to medcat for beta reading:)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_In Baker Street, one fine morning in June, the tall stranger told his tale..._

* * *

**2/Unforgiven**

* * *

"Miss Violet Hunter sought me, that fine lady is no fool,

She said one villain's daughter was a pupil at her school.

She wrote a recent essay called, "My daddy and his gang",

Which mentioned several names, including some who ought to hang."

* * *

"The essay also detailed what her daddy planned to do;

That's why she came to me and why I'm sitting here with you.

She marked the work, made copies, as you see there is no doubt,

The clock is ticking steadily; your time is running out."

* * *

"She's listed all the people who are out to do you harm;

I'm really very sorry that this list will cause alarm.

You've made a lot of enemies throughout your long career,

And some you hoped had gone for good are documented here."

* * *

"There's Mathews, that's the guy you battled with at Charing Cross;

You lost a tooth, he lost an eye; his was the greater loss.

And Wilson, thanks to you, no longer has the loot he gained.

(A further word of warning, his canary's fully trained.)"

* * *

"And Merridew, of course, recalls all details of the case,

Which landed him in jail, he's out, and heading for this place.

And Morgan with his poisoned words, and poisoned victims too;

You thwarted his ambitions, now he's out to poison you."

* * *

"Another couple joined them, who are keen to end your life,

The cripple, Ricoletti, and his abominable wife.

The seventh, final outlaw, whose ambition is the same,

Is Victor Lynch, the forger, I'm sure you recall the name?"

* * *

"They camped last night near Bristol; I was trailing them all day,

And now I've passed my message on I'd best be on my way".

The Doctor asked the stranger, "Do you think they'll be here soon?"

He answered, "I would reckon they should make it here by noon."

* * *

Then Mrs Hudson bustled in, Holmes saw that she had changed;

She wore her smartest Sunday dress, her hair was rearranged.

The stranger smiled and said, "Sweet girl, you've eased my hunger pain."

She blushed and giggled girlishly, and felt nineteen again.

* * *

The stranger left the room, put naked spurs and boots back on.

"I'll tend my faithful horse, and after that I'll soon be gone.

For horse feed, I need dollars; just a fistful would be fine.

You'd best make preparations, as it's almost half past nine.

* * *

They thanked the stranger, grateful for the journey he had made.

(They would have felt much safer if he'd joined their ranks and stayed.)

The Doctor asked, "What chance have we, to make it through the day?"

"Depends if you feel lucky!" And with that, he rode away.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	4. Westerns 3

_a/n: as per western 1. _

_Thanks tapd0g !_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

__

The tall stranger has gone, who can help them now?

****

**

* * *

**

3/True Grit

* * *

They watched the stranger leave, then Holmes spoke softly to his friend,

"It's me they're after, you should go, you don't deserve this end.

The Doc replied indignantly,"Of course I'm staying put!"

His partner smiled, "Then let's prepare. Once more the game's afoot!"

* * *

They turned to Mrs Hudson, gazing fondly down the street.

She had to leave quite quickly, to avoid the "midday heat."

They told her she must pack and go, the words were kindly meant.

(Besides, she had a good idea which way the stranger went.)

* * *

She left, then Watson wondered how much chaos might unfold.

"I think we have no option, Holmes, the Sheriff must be told.

Perhaps he'll lend some deputies, to help us if he can."

And Holmes reluctantly agreed, they'd go and find the man

* * *

They peered around a door on which a gold star was displayed;

His feet up on the desk, reposed the Sheriff, G. Lestrade.

He eyed them both in silence, spat tobacco on the floor,

Then spoke, "Don't waste my time, please state your business with the Law."

* * *

They told their tale, the Sheriff sighed,"That's bad, there is no doubt,

But I can't help defend you, all my deputies are out.

We heard reports of rustling in a far off, distant place."

And Holmes declared those deputies were on a wild-goose chase.

* * *

"Our enemies are cunning, they sent out that rustling news,

They've lured your deputies away, a clever little ruse.

So now they've left you vulnerable, for when they hit the town.

There's only you (and Hopkins) left to hunt the villains down."

* * *

Lestrade, now clearly worried, wiped his hand across his brow.

"My men are on the open range, I cannot help you now.

We'll try to bring them back before the midday hour is struck,

But just in case I don't succeed, I wish you both good luck."

* * *

Bad news, like fire, spreads rapidly, and shops and markets cleared.

The usual crowds of Londoners completely disappeared.

And everyone stayed safe inside, with curtains fastened tight,

While two brave men in Baker Street prepared to stand and fight.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	5. Westerns 4

____

a/n: as per westerns 1

Hades Lord of the Dead; stereotypical western music as promised:)

And thanks again tapd0g:)

Holmes and companions do not belong to me.

********

___

* * *

_

4/ High noon

* * *

And far too fast, the hours ticked by, as Holmes and Watson planned:

Determined they would have, at least, a memorable last stand.

Eleven thirty came and went, then fifteen minutes more;

A knock; they found Lestrade and Hopkins waiting at the door.

* * *

And Holmes, delighted, greeted them, "Thank God, you've both come round!

We have a chance to beat them now your deputies are found."

Lestrade just raised an eyebrow, stared at Holmes and dryly said,

"We're here despite the many times I've cursed your name instead."

* * *

"We could not find the deputies, no matter how we tried,

Young Hopkins here insisted we should still stand at your side."

Now slightly disappointed, Holmes replied, "We're glad you came,

I'd prefer a dozen deputies, but thank you, all the same."

* * *

The clock ticked off the minutes; five, then four, then three, then two.

They glanced at one another; each man knew what he must do.

Lestrade, with loaded rifle, (a Winchester seventy three)

Stayed with Hopkins by the window, waiting apprehensively.

* * *

The final minute came and went; the door was opened wide,

And Holmes and Watson bid farewell, and stepped out, side by side.

All was deathly silence; not a sound, no single word,

Then through the heat-hazed air a lone harmonica was heard.

* * *

And from the west, at last there came a distant thudding beat,

As seven black-clad horsemen rode their way down Baker Street.

* * *

_to be continued..._

_

* * *

_

_a/n 2:longer chapter next time:)_


	6. Westerns 5

_a/n:as per westerns 1_

_thanks again to medcat for beta reading:)_

_A very Happy New Year to all!_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_The seven black-clad horsemen rode their way down Baker Street..._

**

* * *

**

**5/ The quick and the dead.**

* * *

As wild a bunch of misfits as you'd ever hope to see

Approached the house which bore the numbered sign, "two two one B"

Ahead rode One-Eyed Mathews, pleased his vengeful search was done,

Anticipating triumph in the blazing midday sun.

* * *

The horsemen stopped as One-Eyed Mathews raised a black-gloved hand.

He gazed at Holmes and Watson and their brave, yet futile, stand.

"I thought you'd both be miles away, like rabbits running scared.

And the Doctor? It's so touching that your final hour is shared."

* * *

The Seven mocked and jeered them; not magnificent, just mean,

And Hopkins and Lestrade, with narrowed eyes, observed the scene.

The Seven raised their rifles; Holmes and Watson stood quite still,

And One-Eyed Mathews smiled, "It seems we have some time to kill!"

* * *

It looked as if this game had reached a sudden lethal end,

When Holmes took out his pipe and briefly locked eyes with his friend.

At this signal, all was chaos for their unsuspecting foe.

As missiles thrown from high above rained down on those below.

* * *

An Irregular small army, in an attic out of sight,

Just cheered and kept on throwing all they could, with all their might.

Lestrade and Hopkins joined in this now altered, frantic game,

Raised rifles up to shoulders at the window and took aim.

* * *

A startled, trained canary chirped as Wilson bit the dust,

A lucky throw from Wiggins rendered Merridew concussed.

The horses turned, and galloped off. (No single one was hurt.)

And the seven black-clad riders were now sprawling in the dirt.

* * *

The street was filled with bullet, rock, gun-smoke and ricochet,

And Holmes was forced to shelter down a narrow alley way.

Watson aimed his gun at Ricoletti, not his wife.

This chivalrous reaction almost cost the man his life.

* * *

A bullet from her rifle grazed his side and upper arm;

He retreated from the battleground, escaping further harm.

His move was seen by Morgan, who soon followed on his track;

Determined to extract revenge, a chance to pay Holmes back.

* * *

And One-Eyed Mathews, now incensed, discovered Holmes had gone;

He figured out which way he went, and thus the chase was on!

* * *

Lestrade and Hopkins, cautiously, stepped out when smoke had cleared.

Saw Merridew and Wilson, but the rest had disappeared.

Five criminals were missing and two friends were on their own,

The lawmen weren't the type to let them battle on alone.

With Wiggins left on guard, they both set off to track them down,

Not certain what would face them on the streets of London town.

* * *

Watson stumbled further as his wounds began to burn;

He was hot, and tired and injured; did not know which way to turn.

He saw a bar, and headed there; to slake a raging thirst,

But did not know that Morgan was ahead, and entered first.

* * *

And Holmes ran on past warehouses, as Mathews ran behind.

It wasn't his own safety which now occupied his mind;

A team so widely scattered brought the chance of tragedy.

He wondered as he ran, just who those casualties might be.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	7. Westerns 6

_A/N: see first western chapter._

_Many thanks to medcat for beta reading:)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_He wondered, as he ran, just who those casualties might be..._

**

* * *

**

**6/ The good the bad and the ugly**

* * *

The fully trained canary had spent all its life indoors.

Though bright, it lacked experience of Mother Nature's Laws.

And feline recognition? It had not been trained in that;

So chirped with happy innocence at Mrs Hudson's cat…

* * *

The Sheriff, and his deputy, were holed up by the bar;

They'd just one single bullet left; it would not get them far.

And Ricoletti smiled at his abominable wife.

He'd always had the urge to rob a lawman of his life.

The two reloaded quickly, as did Victor Lynch as well.

They took aim at their victims and prepared to give them hell.

Lestrade just turned to Hopkins, shrugged and said,"I'm sorry, son,

I think our luck has just run out; our time on earth is done…"

* * *

And Morgan laid his trap; a poisoned jug of lemonade.

On such a hot June day, a rash decision might be made.

To get revenge on Sherlock Holmes, he'd kill his closest friend;

One sip of his concoction would ensure a painful end.

He waited in the shadows for the drama to begin;

And sure enough, a tired and thirsty Watson staggered in.

He watched him sit down wearily and just as he had planned

The doctor spied the welcome drink; reached out an eager hand…

* * *

Meanwhile at the warehouse, Holmes was short of time and space.

He needed just a moment to recover from the chase.

He stumbled through a doorway, to a dusty shadowed room,

Then heard a pistol trigger click, behind him in the gloom.

And one-eyed Mathews smiled and aimed his weapon at his head,

"Now say your prayers, detective, as you'll very soon be dead."

And Holmes glared at his nemesis, he knew his end was nigh.

An old abandoned warehouse seemed a lonesome place to die…

* * *

_to be continued..._


	8. Westerns 7

_a/n:as per westerns 1_

_Many thanks again to medcat for beta reading:)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Hi, tapd0g!_

_Now, I believe there were one or two little difficulties to sort out..._

**

* * *

**

**7/ How the west was won**

* * *

As Hopkins and Lestrade were braced for bullets all around,

They heard the distant thundering of hooves on cobbled ground.

Then all became confusion, they heard rifles whine and crack,

And saw when smoke and dust had cleared; the deputies were back!

Ricoletti and his wife lay lifeless, side by side

And Bradstreet and his men appeared, exhausted from their ride.

With Victor Lynch now captured, and the evil couple gone,

Lestrade and Hopkins wondered how the others had got on.

* * *

As Watson put the pitcher to his lips, a voice cried, "Stop!

That lemonade is poisoned; do not drink a single drop!"

He stared as Morgan stumbled out of shadows into light;

Behind stood Violet Hunter, with him firmly in her sight.

She stood with pistol in her hand, that "feisty little dame,"

And warned the thwarted poisoner, "I have a steady aim."

She smiled at Watson, he'd put down the jug with all due haste,

"Let's tend your wounds, then find your friends, there is no time to waste."

* * *

Meanwhile at the warehouse, Holmes looked Mathews in the eye;

Determined he would show him he was not afraid to die.

As Mathews grinned, exultant that at last he'd make him pay,

A pistol pressed against his neck, a whispered, "Make my day!"

And out from gloom and dust, the lean tall stranger showed his face.

Holmes could only marvel how he'd found this godless place.

"I am grateful for your help, sir, but I thought you'd gone for good."

The stranger simply turned to where a second figure stood,

And smiled, and said, "I had, but this young lady changed my mind."

And Mrs Hudson blushed, "I knew he'd help; he's very kind."

* * *

_to be continued..._


	9. Westerns 8

_A/N: as per westerns 1_

_Many thanks to medcat, as always, for beta reading._

_Thanks again to Lemon Zinger, for her original "study in angst" which triggered the idea._

_Hi tapd0g, and thanks again. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed this:it really makes a difference:)_

_And so the long, eventful summer's day comes to an end..._

**

* * *

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**8/ High plains drifter**

* * *

Reunion back at Baker Street! Relief and joy all round!

The villains safely locked in jail, or six feet underground.

* * *

They gathered round the table, Mrs Hudson fed them all;

Including Bradstreet's posse, who were resting in the hall.

They thanked Miss Violet Hunter, and the stranger, too, of course.

He'd stopped to share some supper, while young Wiggins fed his horse.

* * *

Then when the meal was finished, and all stories had been heard;

The stranger stretched, pushed back his chair, and stood without a word.

He turned to his companions, "Well, the day is almost through.

It's time that I was moving on; I'll bid Good Day to you."

* * *

He turned to Mrs Hudson, "You're my girl, remember that."

And handed her a gift, a yellow ribbon for her hat.

* * *

He strode across the parlour, down the stairs, all seventeen;

Spoke quietly to Wiggins, saddled up, sat tall and lean.

He tipped his Stetson once towards his friends, now at the door;

Then turned, picked up the reins and rode down Baker Street once more.

* * *

Young Wiggins yelled, "Come back!" his youthful pleas were all in vain;

The waiting comrades knew he'd never pass that way again.

They watched the stranger ride towards the distant setting sun,

And wondered where he'd lay his head, now this day's work was done.

* * *

The mocking bird sang one more time, then stopped, and flew away,

And all returned to normal on that cloudless summer's day.

But just who was that stranger, who had helped them win the game?

You may not be surprised to learn; of course… he had no name.

* * *

_The End...almost..._

* * *

And now this tale is ended,

There is just one final word,

About that trained canary,

Such a hopeful little bird.

Eventually it noticed

That it's chirping tempted fate.

Re bird and cat dynamics,

The penny dropped quite late.

It lost a few tail feathers

And was mightily alarmed,

But in the making of _this _verse,

No actual bird was harmed.

* * *

_END_

_

* * *

_

_A/N :and for those of you not old enough to be familiar with all the old western movies which used to entertain my family on a Saturday night; here is a list of the ones referenced throughout the poem:)_

_Chapter titles; Once Upon a Time in the West, Unforgiven, True Grit, High Noon, The Quick and the Dead, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,How the West was Won, High Plains Drifter._

_Mentioned in passing, or hinted at; The Wild Bunch, The Misfits, The Naked Spur, Open Range, Winchester 73, Shane, The Magnificent Seven, The Alamo, She wore a Yellow Ribbon, A Fistful of Dollars, and several other films featuring a certain Mr Eastwood._


	10. Friendship 1

_A/N: Thanks to all who read, or read and reviewed "Hurt/comfort" and/or "Westerns". I am trying to make the style of each genre a little different and would appreciate knowing what works or what doesn't:)_

_Thanks to Lemon Zinger and sagredo for advice and comments on this one._

_Any mistakes are mine._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_There is a second part to this :)_

_POV of Watson._

**

* * *

**

**A Study in Friendship-one**

* * *

This is not what I expected

When I chose to study medicine,

In the lecture halls of London

And the chaos of the wards.

As a young and eager student

I had dreams and aspirations,

And the ancient art of healing

Brought its own unique rewards.

_

* * *

_

I'm outside a darkened warehouse and I'm crouched behind a barrel,

_I'm alert for signs of movement as we're on the villain's track,_

_And I'm carefully observing as my comrade edges forward_

_To the hideout of our quarry, knowing I will watch his back._

* * *

This is not what I envisaged

When I joined the British Army,

Having found that other choices

Were beyond my meagre purse.

As an idealistic doctor,

Quite prepared to do my duty,

I signed up for Queen and Country,

Bound for better or for worse.

_

* * *

_

And now I'm moving forward, though my leg is stiff and aching,

_As I spot a second villain in the shadows by a door._

_And against all natural instinct I move out and into danger,_

_As I need to help my partner and I've never failed before._

* * *

This is not what I imagined,

When I left the British Army,

As the scarred and haunted veteran

Of a nightmare-filled campaign.

Lacking money, health and purpose,

Disillusioned and embittered,

Needing time to mourn my comrades

And the strength to start again.

_

* * *

_

And I hiss a hurried warning as I see another figure

_Creeping up behind my comrade as he's searching for his prey._

_Then a fourth assailant joins him, dropping down to block an exit,_

_And I'm faced with more opponents as I turn the other way._

* * *

This is not what I intended

When I sought accommodation

As anonymous hotel rooms

Lost their limited appeal.

I desired a simple dwelling,

Free from stress and complications.

Just a calm and peaceful refuge,

Where my wounds and I could heal.

_

* * *

_

Holmes has heard my whispered signal and deduced we're both in trouble.

_He's succeeded all too clearly in his goal to find their lair._

_Now the strength of opposition is a lot for two to handle_

_But he does not need to see me to be certain I'm still there._

* * *

This was not what I had pictured,

When I finally decided

A return to general practice

Would fulfil a growing need.

I could earn a modest living,

See a gentle stream of patients,

And avoid all stress and worry

So my nightmares could recede

_

* * *

_

Now they're closing in around us and we're backed into a corner,

_We're prepared for quite a battle, and for fists and canes to swing._

_So, we wait, as tension rises, for what fate decides will follow,_

_And I catch my comrade's eye and know I would not change a thing._

* * *

End


	11. Friendship 2

_A/N: Thank you for all your kind comments regarding the first part :) Hello tapd0g! And thanks again to sagredo._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Any mistakes are my own._

_POV of Holmes._

**

* * *

**

**A Study in Friendship-two**

* * *

There's a certain satisfaction

In the absolute precision

Of interpreting the world

Through every detail I observe.

And I know that those who blunder

Through their lives without such order

Live in ignorance and chaos

Which they thoroughly deserve.

* * *

_Having carefully examined every clue as it presented,_

_I am confident we'll track this thief and killer to his lair._

_So I'll carefully approach him as he walks amongst the shadows,_

_Knowing I have all the back up I could need right over there._

* * *

There's a certain satisfaction

As I study hard at college,

In the sense of isolation

I've known many times before.

With one single close acquaintance

To distract me from my learning,

I can keep my steady focus

On the things which matter more.

* * *

_And I notice that my quarry has now reached his destination;_

_It seems likely that the case will be resolved before too long._

_I am still relieved that Watson stayed a little way behind me_

_With a better chance of cover if this mission should go wrong._

* * *

There's a certain satisfaction

In the science of detection;

In the clear cut diagnosis

Based on evidence alone.

As my skills of observation

Are not matched by any other's,

I'm content to shun all help

And work entirely on my own.

* * *

_Now, although I have no proof, there is a growing, nagging feeling;_

_A persisting apprehension that things aren't as I had planned._

_So against my natural instinct to respond to logic only,_

_I look back to check the partner I regard as my right hand._

* * *

There's a certain satisfaction

In declaring my conclusions

To impress a would-be flat mate

Whose past fortune's written clear:

From the bullet-shattered shoulder

And the signs of recent fever;

To the haunted disappointment

Of a tragic, lost career.

* * *

_I turn just as Watson signals and he's moving fast towards me_

_As more members of the gang appear to stop us in our track;_

_And a planned retreat is thwarted as yet more appear to block us,_

_And my friend is quite determined to remain and watch my back._

* * *

There's a certain satisfaction

Which is wholly unexpected,

In the presence of a comrade

Who will join me on a case.

I've discovered a surprising,

Not unwelcome new dimension

To the path I choose to follow

And the challenges I face.

* * *

_We've considered all the options as we face our foe together,_

_As our enemies surround us and there's nowhere left to hide,_

_And we share the briefest glance as we stand firm, prepared for battle._

_I can deal with what may follow, with my comrade at my side._

* * *

End


	12. Drama 1

_A/N: This is the response to a prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead, who wished Mrs Hudson to be the main suspect in a poisoning case:) _

_The lay out and format is a bit of an experiment-all the headings and stage notes and names for dialogue are part of the verse-hope it is not too confusing. As always, feedback is very welcome._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Any mistakes are mine, and "Lestrade" is back to rhyming with "Yard"_

**

* * *

**

**A Study in Drama**

**The Perplexing Puzzle of the Poisoned Pudding**

**Part One**

* * *

_A tale full of drama,_

_A play in three acts,_

_A saga of fear and suspicion._

_Has that nice Mrs Hudson been driven too far_

_And embarked on a murderous mission?_

* * *

**The Cast**

_Sherlock Holmes_-_a consulting detective,_

_Doctor Watson,_

_Inspector Lestrade._

_Mrs Hudson_-_landlady of infinite patience_

_And Hopkins_-_of course, from the Yard._

_Then there's Wiggins_-_a loveable Baker Street urchin,_

_The Irregular mob at his side,_

_Young Francis_-_the nephew, about to get married_

_And Elsie_-_his soon-to-be bride._

* * *

**Act One**

_This is set in a London apartment;_

_The initials "VR" on the wall._

_Old papers and tea cups and test tubes are scattered;_

_It's not very tidy at all._

_A desk in the corner, with journals and inkstand;_

_Correspondence affixed with a blade._

_A tobacco-filled slipper is propped by the hearth,_

_Where a long row of pipes is displayed._

_~o~_

_Holmes enters, a brisk and imposing tall figure,_

_And picks up a pipe from the rack._

_He's wearing a mouse-coloured dressing gown with_

_An impressive scorch-mark on the back._

_~o~_

_Doctor Watson appears, looking tired and distracted,_

_His medical bag in his hand._

_A long day of tending the sick is completed;_

_A nice peaceful evening is planned._

_He sighs and then settles with journals and papers_

_As Holmes takes a chair by the fire._

_~o~_

_Holmes_—"I think, my dear fellow, a nice hearty supper

Is the one thing I truly desire."

~o~

_This scene of contentment is soon interrupted;_

_A distraught Mrs Hudson storms in._

_She glares at the duo, her manner accusing,_

_They wait for her tale to begin._

_~o~_

_Mrs H_—"As you know, I have infinite patience

And you test it again and again.

This time you have pushed me beyond all endurance

And caused me a great deal of pain!"

~o~

_Holmes_—"My dear Mrs Hudson, you cannot believe

We would cause you deliberate harm."

~o~

_Dr Watson_—"Please tell us whatever has happened

To cause you such grief and alarm."

~o~

_Mrs H—(waving crossly a note in her hand)_

"Read this paper and then you will see!

My nephew, young Francis, is due to be married;

You have ruined the wedding for me!"

~o~

_She hands the said missive across to the duo;_

_Holmes opens it up; starts to read._

-Dear Aunt,

You're not welcome to witness our wedding;

We are shocked at your underhand deed.

Recent events have revealed to my sorrow

That you don't trust my soon-to-be wife;

Your detective has made some extensive enquiries

Concerning my darling's past life.

It was hard to believe you would stoop to such tactics;

Your actions were mean and unfair.

When I marry this wonderful, heavenly creature,

I'd prefer it if you were not there.

Signed,

Francis E. Hudson (your once-loving nephew)

p.s. We are keeping your gift.-

~o~

_Holmes_—"He really should be quite impressed and quite grateful,

Instead of creating this rift.

My dear Mrs Hudson, breathe deeply and slowly;

Please don't take this letter to heart.

I have to admit when I met this young couple,

Suspicions were raised at the start.

It is true, that despite my "extensive enquiries"

No cause for concern has been found.

There is just one more source who has not yet confirmed

If her background is truthful and sound."

~o~

_Mrs H_—"You will cease your malign interference;

You have ruined my nephew's big day!

I have bought a new dress, and a hat, and that present;

And someone is going to pay!"

~o~

_With that, she stalks out in extreme indignation,_

_And Watson eyes Holmes in disgust._

_~o~_

_Dr Watson_—"You really have no comprehension

Of family, and honour, and trust.

Stop using your friends in a game of detection;

Leave bride, aunt, and nephew alone.

You have caused great distress to our dear Mrs Hudson,

And must put it right on your own."

~o~

_A rattle and crash; Mrs Hudson re-enters_

_And slams down a supper-filled tray._

_~o~_

_Mrs H_—"This is more than your meddling deserves;

Please just try to stay out of my way!"

~o~

_The comrades stare glumly at leftover remnants;_

_Old sandwiches flung on a plate;_

_And eat with reluctance stale bread and cold pudding;_

_Resigned to their miserable fate._

_~o~_

_An hour or so later, intrigued by the silence,_

_The landlady peeps round the door._

_She sees the remains of a half-eaten supper_

_And her tenants sprawled out on the floor…_

_

* * *

_

End of Act One


	13. Drama 2

_A/N: Hades also wanted Lestrade to be convinced that Mrs Hudson was the killer..._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Hopkins' moustache may belong to AdidasandPie and Cryptix:)_

_Any mistakes are mine.  
_

**

* * *

**

**A Study in Drama**

**The Perplexing Puzzle of the Poisoned Pudding**

**Part two**

**

* * *

**

Act two

_This is set in a cell at the station_

_Where a figure is waiting, quite lost and forlorn._

_She sits in her coat on a coarse woollen blanket_

_And sees, through the bars, the grey fingers of dawn._

_She jumps at the sound of loud footsteps approaching_

_And turns as the door opens wide with a crash._

_She's faced with a ferret-like, grim-faced inspector_

_And eager young sidekick with boyish moustache._

_~o~_

_Lestrade-(striding over to stare at his prisoner.)_

"And now, Mrs Hudson, it's time to confess!

It was only a matter of luck and poor timing

That your murder attempt did not meet with success!"

~o~

_A tear's brushed away by the Baker Street suspect._

_Disappointment or joy? It's not easy to tell._

_~o~_

_Lestrade_-"Just admit that you poisoned the pudding.

Are there any past crimes you've committed as well?"

~o~

_Mrs H_-"I have nothing to tell you, Inspector.

I am greatly relieved that the boys will survive.

Now stop all this nonsense; I must go and visit,

To see for myself that they're truly alive."

~o~

_Lestrade_-"Yes, you'd like that, you cold, callous woman!

A chance for another attempt, I've no doubt.

I'm not fooled at all by your show of compassion;

You're a devious lady-and murder will out!

In fact, I can't stand to be here in your presence;

I will have to go out for a breath of fresh air.

We'll get your confession; don't think you can fool us;

Just how we extract it-I really don't care!"

~o~

_Lestrade leaves the room in a flurry of anger._

_~o~_

_Young Hopkins-(who speaks sympathetically)_

-"The strain of the job can produce that reaction.

Would you like me to get you a nice cup of tea?

I'm afraid, Mrs Hudson, his wrath can be dreadful;

His history of violence is very well-known.

I'm worried that when he returns he will try

To send me away so he has you alone.

He's clearly upset at his friends' brush with danger;

They were always quite close; as I'm sure you could see.

I cannot predict how he'll act on returning;

Perhaps you should give your confession to me."

~o~

_Mrs H_-"I repeat, I have nothing to hide;

My innocence should be quite clear to you both.

I have never attempted to murder my lodgers

And am fully prepared to declare that on oath."

~o~

_Young Hopkins_-"Alas, then I really can't help you,

You seem quite determined to stick to your lies."

~o~

_Lestrade stalks back in, and approaches his suspect;_

_He smiles but the smile never reaches his eyes._

_~o~_

_Lestrade_-"Mrs Hudson, forgive my short temper,

I'm sure we'll resolve this without much delay.

Oh, Hopkins? I left all my files in my office;

Please go up and get them for me, straight away!"

~o~

_At his words, Mrs Hudson looks up at young Hopkins;_

_He shakes his head sadly and heads for the door._

_The air in the cell fairly crackles with tension;_

_Who knows what the next fateful hour has in store?"_

_~o~_

_Mrs H-(standing straight with her hands on her hips)_

Lestrade, you're not really this hard and this mean!

Did you honestly think I would not figure out

This foolish "good Yarder: bad Yarder" routine?

I have learned quite a lot from the years I have spent

With the doctor, detective, and sometimes his brother.

Stanley Hopkins, you should be ashamed of yourself;

I'm really quite tempted to speak to your mother!"

~o~

_Young Hopkins looks down from her clear, steady gaze;_

_A blush slowly rises and colours his cheeks._

_~o~_

_Young Hopkins_-"The whole thing was Bradstreet's idea;

He suggested some new interviewing techniques."

~o~

_Mrs H_-"I am sure, with a little more practice,

You could build the appropriate level of fear"

~o~

_All thoughts of instruction are quickly forgotten_

_As a groggy detective and doctor appear._

_~o~_

_Holmes_-"Lestrade, why on earth have you jailed Mrs Hudson?

Does she look like the cause of a poisoning spree?"

~o~

_Lestrade_-"I was simply performing my duty;

The quiet ones are often the killers, you see."

~o~

_Mrs H-(after warmly embracing her lodgers.)_

-"I was having a chat with Inspector Lestrade.

I've learned quite a lot from my role as chief suspect;

Extracting confessions is really quite hard.

But, now you are here and, thank goodness, recovered

We need to establish the real killer's name.

I've been told that the pudding I gave you was poisoned.

Who tried to kill you, and leave me with the blame?"

~o~

_Holmes_-"Let's follow the track of this infamous pudding;

Lestrade, we could do with a nice cup of tea."

~o~

_Young Hopkins just nods and heads off to the kitchen,_

_Lestrade wonders just what her story will be._

_~o~_

_Mrs H_-"I recall when I baked that fine pudding;

It was last Tuesday evening, when guests came around.

The flour and the milk and the eggs which I used

Were from my own store, so were perfectly sound.

I added vanilla, but needed some nutmeg;

I don't keep it in as it's too high a price,

But luckily Elsie was visiting London

And gave me a generous pack of the spice."

~o~

_Her story trails off as the penny drops slowly;_

_She thinks of her nephew and "so-perfect" match._

_~o~_

_Mrs H_-"I'll be needing my hat and new outfit;

I believe there's a train to a wedding to catch."

* * *

_End of Act Two_


	14. Drama 3

_A/N: Thanks again to HadesLordoftheDead for the prompt which sparked this off :)_

_All mistakes are mine._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Thank you Tapd0g! _

**

* * *

**

A study in drama

**The Perplexing Puzzle of the Poisoned Pudding**

**Part three**

_

* * *

_

**Act Three**

____

This is set at the scene of a wedding,

_A small parish church in a village in Kent;_

_Where vicar, and guests, and small bridesmaids are gathered_

_To witness a happy and joyful event._

_A group of latecomers appear in the doorway_

_And are ushered discreetly to pews at the side;_

_A smartly dressed woman in hat and new outfit_

_And an escort of four who aren't "friends of the bride"._

_~o~_

_Mrs H-_"I'm not sure I can really take in

That Elsie has caused such disruption and grief.

She seemed such a wonderful catch for my nephew;

To think she's a killer just beggars belief.

We still have no clue of a reasonable motive;

What possible plot could your deaths help advance?

Perhaps no-one poisoned the pudding on purpose,

The toxin-laced nutmeg could just have been chance."

~o~

_Holmes starts to reply, but then stares at the entrance-_

"Good Heavens! I've spotted some guests we all know!"

~o~

_And there in the porch having words with the vicar,_

_Stands Wiggins, with small scruffy sidekick in tow._

_Having ended, it seems, an intense conversation;_

_Young Wiggins soon spies them and heads for the pew._

_~o~_

_Young Wiggins-_"I'm here with a message from London.

Mr 'Olmes, your big brother has sent us to you.

He said you're to read it as soon as you're able,

He said there's a lot it will help to explain.

I asked why he didn't come down here in person,

He said he belongs in his club, not a train."

~o~

_Holmes quickly examines the missive from Mycroft;_

_His landlady also scans through the same note._

_As soon as she works out the full implications;_

_She pales, shuts her eyes, clasps her hands to her throat._

_With a cheery goodbye, Wiggins leaves with his sidekick;_

_His pockets weighed down with a shilling or two._

_And __Holmes pats the arm of the shocked Mrs Hudson,_

_Now perfectly clear what they both have to do._

_~0~_

_A hush, as young Francis, the bridegroom, now enters;_

_So happy and eager; a heart-warming sight._

_He moves to the front of the church as the organ_

_Rings out with a wedding hymn; tuneful and bright._

_~0~_

_And there__, in the sunlight, stands lovely bride, Elsie,_

_Resplendent in silk, orange blossom and lace._

_And she flashes a smile at the rapt congregation;_

_A look of great triumph and joy on her face._

_She walks down the aisle with a rustle of hoop skirts_

_And waits at the altar, her groom at her side._

_~o~_

_Mrs H-(standing proud as she calls to the vicar.)_

"Stop the wedding! This girl is no innocent bride!"

~o~

_Such uproar and clamour and noisy commotion,_

_As Francis turns round, looking shocked and dismayed._

_~o~_

_Mrs H-_"My dear nephew, I'm sorry to tell you,

It's an evil and poisonous plan she has laid."

~o~

_Elsie-"_Don't listen to her, my sweet darling.

You aunt is an evil, conniving old shrew!

Ignore her mad ramblings, she's jealous, my angel;

She is simply annoyed that I'm marrying you!"

~o~

_Holmes-_"Elsie, your dastardly plan is uncovered,

We've discovered your secret before it's too late;

Your father's close friend was the late _Mr_ Hudson,

They shared the same crimes and they shared the same fate.

You vowed to avenge the sad end which befell them;

(An end they quite richly deserved, believe me.)

You hoped to become the brand new Mrs Hudson

And reside in two hundred and twenty one B."

~o~

_The silence __which follows this shocking announcement_

_Continues as several stunned seconds go b__y, _

_Then is broken when__ several small bridesmaids start screaming_

_As Elsie moves back with a pistol raised high._

_She smiles and aims straight at the brave Mrs Hudson;_

_A desperate attempt at a lethal last stand_

_But before Holmes, Lestrade or young Hopkins or Watson_

_Can act, the small pistol is knocked from her hand._

_A gift-wrapped small parcel and pistol go flying,_

_Lestrade and young Hopkins low-tackle the bride _

_And Wiggins emerges with scruffy small sidekick,_

_Shakes hands with the vicar and moves to the side._

_He picks up the handy small "weapon" and pistol,_

_And lets the relieved Mrs H take a look._

_~o~_

_Mrs H-(peering down at the tag on the "weapon")_

"It's my gift to the couple; a recipe book!"

~o~

_Young Hopkins-(now putting the derbies on Elsie),_

"Young lady, you're coming with us to the Yard,

This won't be the wedding day trip you were planning."

~o~

_Exit Hopkins and Elsie, pursued by Lestrade._

_~o~_

_Young Francis stands watching his Elsie's departure;_

_His lovely fiancée who plotted and lied._

_He holds in his hand a decayed orange blossom;_

_Now all that remains of his not-to-be bride._

_~o~_

_And Watson and Holmes turn to Wiggins and sidekick._

_Holmes-"_How did you manage to disarm the bride?"

~o~

_Young Wiggins-"_We got some advice from the vicar;

He showed us a brilliant place we could hide.

I told him we thought you were heading for trouble

And was there a way we could sneak right back in.

We crept through the vestry and hid near the altar

And waited for all of the fun to begin."

~o~

_They then look across at their dear Mrs Hudson;_

_Who is talking to Francis; the heart-broken groom._

_~o~_

_Holmes-"_I think it is time for our party to leave

And return to the peace of our own sitting room."

* * *

_End of Act Three_

_

* * *

_

**Epilogue**

_Later that evening, in London;_

_Detective and doctor, relaxing at last._

_To thank them for helping her out,__ Mrs Hudson_

_Has made them a perfectly splendid__ repast._

_A noise at the door, Holmes peers down from the window;_

_Lestrade and young Hopkins are there at the door._

_They are laden with bunches of flowers and chocolates;_

_It's not very hard to deduce who they're for._

_Holmes hears the door open and footsteps approaching _

_And bids Mrs Hudson and guests to come in._

_He nods at the Yarders who seem quite embarrassed_

_And waits for their well-rehearsed speech to begin_

_~o~_

_Lestrade-"_We have brought you these gifts, Mrs Hudson;

We hold you, of course, in the highest esteem.

We are sorry we called you a cold, callous killer

And accused you of having a murderous scheme.

We hope you'll forgive us for locking you up;

You're a wonderful lady and much valued friend."

~o~

_Mrs H_-"Life's too short to hold grudges, Inspector.

Would you like to try some of this pudding?"

~o~

_The End _

_

* * *

_

_a/n 2: orange blossom-symbol of purity and happiness in bridal bouquets.(Oh well...)_

_derbies-handcuffs_

_Mr Hudson-I have assumed he had a criminal past and came to a bad end; this is expanded on in the BBC Sherlock series, so seemed a reasonable plot device:)_

_"Stop the wedding!"-line provided by nomdeplume:) _


	15. Romance 1

_A/N: Many thanks to sagredo, and to nomdeplume30 for advice/comments re these :)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_5 sonnets: 5 very different views on romance._

**

* * *

**

1/Holmes

* * *

You would like my definition of romance?

Do you really think that I have time to waste?

I would not give that word a second glance;

It's not useful nor productive and is more to Watson's taste.

A lot of silly nonsense has been said,

To decorate the sentence,"I love you."

It is obvious that roses can be red,

And it comes as no surprise to learn that violets can be blue.

Unnecessary havoc can be wrought,

When Cupid and his arrow run amok.

I'd rather stick to reason and clear thought,

And scientific disciplines as solid as a rock.

~o~

You ask me what her photograph is for?

A reminder of a quite intriguing case…and nothing more.

~o~

* * *

_end_


	16. Romance 2

_A/N:as per romance 1. Reference to "The Sign of the Four"_

**

* * *

**

2/Watson

* * *

You would like my definition of romance?

Did Holmes suggest you came to talk to me?

He knows I could have told you in advance

That the soft and gentle side of life is not his cup of tea.

Without romance, my tales would stay unread;

It adds a spark to every case we take.

"The Strand" would publish something else instead,

If loves and lives and honour weren't repeatedly at stake.

Romance transforms the most mundane of days,

Or can take a humble doctor by surprise;

Affected in so many different ways

When presented with a client; plainly dressed, with large blue eyes.

~o~

If you'd known her you would surely understand

Why at night, although she's gone, I still reach out for Mary's hand...

~o~

* * *

_end_


	17. Romance 3

_A/N: and now it is the turn of the ladies... Mrs Elizabeth Lestrade is courtesy of bemj11's excellent series; "Married to the Yard"- this verse is also to be found on bemj11's site; accessed from her profile page. If you have not read her fics, go now, and see what you are missing._

* * *

**3/Elizabeth Lestrade**

* * *

You would like my definition of romance?

I don't measure it in trinkets or in flowers.

I would rather have the hug and loving glance

When he finally gets home and I've been waiting up for hours.

Don't define it by the most expensive meal,

Or in clothing of the very latest style,

It's the plain and simple pleasures which appeal,

The antics of our children and his shy complicit smile.

I can do without fine jewels in large amounts,

Or the most elaborate poem you can quote.

I have always been quite sure what really counts;

There's more passion and more feeling in a heartfelt scribbled note.

~o~

So, the gifts of gold and silver you can keep;

I'll have the nights when he's at home, and the children are asleep.

~o~

* * *

_end_


	18. Romance 4

_A/N:Contains spoilers for "The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton"._

_Incidentally, this is the hundredth chapter/verse/poem that I have posted since joining this site and I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has read any of my work, or written any of the fics I have enjoyed. You have no idea what a difference you have all made to me:)_

_Mrs P:)_

**

* * *

**

**4/Aggie**

* * *

You would like my definition of romance?

Well, you may not be surprised to learn it's changed.

As you know, my heart was led a merry dance

And my plans for wedded bliss were quite abruptly rearranged.

I'm afraid that I have learned a little late

The importance of a suitor I can trust.

There are those who clearly don't appreciate

The devastating impact when a promise turns to dust.

Through those blissful stolen hours so blithely spent,

As we walked and talked together,hand in hand;

I remained completely blind to his intent,

And my unwitting contribution to the pages of "The Strand".

~o~

And yet...I would have gladly played my part,

If that heartless "plumber", Escott, had been truthful from the start.

~o~

* * *

_end_


	19. Romance 5

_A/N:As per first chapter._

_And finally, "the woman" herself. Spoilers for "A Scandal in Bohemia". Last line is a direct quote from the story._

**5/Miss Irene Adler**

* * *

You would like my definition of romance?

This may contradict your view of womankind.

There are many, I am sure, who look askance

At an independent lady with an independent mind.

Those rumours almost drive me to despair,

Concerning my encounters with _l'amore._

If I really want a passionate _affaire_

I can find it in a song or in an operatic score.

I am unimpressed with wealth and royal court,

Or with those who try to put me in my place.

The prize which I am seeking can't be bought;

The exception to the rule who sees beyond this pretty face.

~o~

And the king? Of course, that was not meant to be;

You see, I love, and am loved by, a better man than he.

~o~

* * *

_end_


	20. Fantasy

_A/N: a typical day for Dr Watson. Or maybe not._

_Thanks to sagredo for advice re this._

_Any mistakes are my own._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson._

**

* * *

**

**A study in fantasy.**

* * *

A bright and sunny morning in September;

The birdsong gently chorused me awake.

A deep and dreamless slumber lay behind me

And I sprang straight out of bed without a single twinge or ache.

~o~

I shaved with water (warm) and razor (sharpened),

And dressed, quite keen to start another day.

The scents of bacon, sausages and coffee

Were wafting up the staircase in a most inviting way.

~o~

I bounded down the steps to seek my breakfast

And walked into our light-filled sitting room;

The spread, of course prepared by Mrs Hudson,

Banished, in an instant, any misery and gloom.

~o~

My flat-mate joined me several minutes later;

His dressing gown fresh-laundered, patched and pressed.

He smiled, "Good morning, Watson, have you slept well?

I put away my violin so you could get some rest."

~o~

I thanked him for his thoughtful act of kindness;

He told me he was glad to be my friend.

"And, Watson, as I'm blessed with no new cases;

Are there any of your fine romantic tales you'd recommend?"

~o~

I left him with a stack of light-weight novels,

And a book on stars and moons which caught his eye.

I grabbed my doctor's bag and left the building;

And quickly caught a cab which, by good luck, was passing by.

~o~

The journey to my rooms was uneventful;

The driver doffed his cap and drove away.

He would not, he insisted, charge a penny;

He was grateful I had saved his wife and child the other day.

~o~

I stepped inside my clean and cosy clinic:

The nurse in charge regaled me with a smile.

"The debts of all your patients have been honoured;

They apologised profusely that it took them such a while."

~o~

"No house calls are recorded for this morning

And your surgery is only partly full.

I've prepared a pot of tea and baked some biscuits;

It looks as though your clinic will be short and fairly dull.

~o~

And so it was: the morning passed quite swiftly;

No dire infectious patients crossed my path.

They all appeared polite and very grateful;

No drunk and angry relative barged in to vent his wrath.

~o~

No harsh demands were made on time and patience;

No medical emergency occurred;

No carriage crashed outside my clinic window;

No desperate cries of "Fetch the doctor out at once!" were heard.

~o~

I was sorry when this pleasant clinic ended,

I bid them all farewell, and headed out.

I soon espied the cheerful, grateful cabbie;

My luck was in that day, without the shadow of a doubt.

~o~

I bade the cabbie stop, a few streets onward;

Deciding I would stroll and take the air.

He dropped me by the park (again, no payment)

And I wandered through the lawns and paths without a single care.

~o~

Approaching home, I heard the sound of voices

And saw Lestrade and Hopkins in the street;

I overheard a snatch of conversation;

That Mr Holmes was always such a charming man to meet.

~o~

A vague, unsettled thought was quickly smothered,

As I sauntered up the hall and eighteen stairs;

The sitting room was filled with lively chatter,

I had clearly caught the Great Detective somewhat unawares.

~o~

He sat with Mrs Hudson and her neighbours;

His brother, Mycroft Holmes, was also there.

They seemed to be discussing Paris fashions,

The latest summer frocks and what the smartest men should wear.

~o~

I joined this rather charming conversation,

We talked for maybe half an hour or so;

I rose and bid farewell, when all departed.

I'd had a lovely time and felt quite sad to see them go.

~o~

I reached for my favourite pair of slippers

And settled in my usual fireside chair.

I noticed that my partner looked bewildered,

And wandered round the room with quite an odd, distracted air.

~o~

"My dear Watson, I confess I'm rather puzzled;

I have the vague impression something's changed.

As you know, I don't react to "just a feeling",

But please look around the room and tell me what's been rearranged."

~o~

As I glanced around the room I felt uneasy;

My sense of satisfaction disappeared.

The room was preternaturally tidy;

And what was in the butter dish? Some butter? That was weird.

~o~

The books were neatly stacked upon…the bookcase;

The table held a lamp and nothing more;

Holmes' papers had been organised and labelled;

No parts from strange experiments were scattered on the floor.

~o~

No charred, dissolved or partly melted objects;

No chemical aroma, fumes or smoke;

No holes or mystery stains upon the carpet;

Holmes looked at me uncertainly, then cleared his throat and spoke.

~o~

"I'd be grateful, my dear Watson, if you'd tell me

Precisely every detail of your day.

Something quite beyond my comprehension

Has affected what has happened to us both in every way."

~o~

I thought about my lovely morning clinic,

My restful night, my day quite free from pain.

I sighed; my life could never run this smoothly;

And the thought of Holmes' and Mycroft's idle gossip was insane.

~o~

And Holmes enjoying my romantic novels?

Things cannot be as perfect as they seem.

The day's events were really quite fantastic;

The only explanation was that this was all a dream…

~o~

* * *

~o~

A cold and rainy morning in September

I struggled through the layers of dreams to wake.

Another grinding day of general practice;

And as I rose, reluctantly, old wounds began to ache...

~o~

* * *

_End_


	21. Humour 1

_a/n: a slightly different approach to "The Adventure of the Red-Headed League". Contains spoilers for same story. The title of the chapter is a quote from the story, also._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me. _

_Thanks to Lemon Zinger for getting this series going, and helping me continue it :-)_

_POV of Watson_

* * *

**A study in Humour: Part 1**

**Strange effects and extraordinary combinations.**

* * *

_Our cases were many and varied, with murders and deadly intrigue;_

_But none caused us greater amusement, than the case of the Red-Headed League_…

~o~

Strolling out, one autumn evening;

Passing Baker Street once more.

Holmes is clearly pleased to see me,

Hauls me in and shuts the door.

I perceive he has a client;

One with striking, fiery hair;

I intend to leave them to it,

Holmes, however, wants to share.

(Secretly, I'm quite delighted;

My old comrade needs me there.)

~o~

Introducing Jabez Wilson;

Humble pawnbroker by trade,

Pompous, slow and quite disgruntled;

Hair of quite unsettling shade.

With a most perplexing problem,

Causing him great discontent;

He is here to tell my friend

Just how his recent weeks were spent.

And thus, he proves real life can match

The strangest things we might invent.

~o~

Holmes observes this portly stranger;

Makes deductions (can't resist.)

Places, habits, past employment;

Usual impressive list.

Mr Wilson's quite dumb-founded

By my friend's well practiced game;

Can't believe how Holmes can have

Such accurate and detailed aim.

(Even after years with Holmes,

I look, but fail to see the same.)

~o~

Once my friend explains his methods,

Jabez Wilson's less impressed.

Holmes decides complete disclosure

Isn't always for the best.

It seems it does not really pay

To give a candid explanation;

Clues are deemed "absurdly simple",

Much to his profound frustration.

Perhaps an air of mystery

Might help to boost his reputation.

~o~

A column in a crumpled paper;

Carefully I scan each word;

Gaze at Holmes and Jabez, puzzled,

This article seems quite absurd.

A vacancy is advertised,

A legacy with funds to share;

It offers an impressive sum,

Explaining who and when and where;

Mentioning one stipulation:

Applicants must have red hair.

~o~

Holmes seems charmed and captivated

By this most bizarre of cases.

Strange effects and combinations

Lurk in unexpected places.

Jabez now takes up the saga,

Tells us how it caught his eye;

Blessed with such a crowning glory,

Seemed a shame to pass this by.

Thanks to his keen-eyed assistant

Giving him the chance to try.

~o~

He followed every last instruction,

Prepared to see the process through;

Amazed to see the street was thronged

With red-haired crowds of every hue.

Auburn tints and russet tresses

Pouring in from left and right;

Every shade from straw to orange;

Brick and lemon: quite a sight.

Few, however, seemed to have

His vivid redness; fiery bright.

~o~

Once again, his keen assistant

Proved to be the perfect aide;

Somehow pushed aside the crowd,

Helped him through the path he'd made.

Up the stairs, they found an office;

A red-haired man sat waiting there;

He marvelled at the flaming locks;

At last! The perfect head of hair!

(And, just to check for cheats with wigs,

He tugged as hard as he could bear.)

~o~

They told him what the job entailed;

He'd sit each day from ten till two.

They made it clear that if he left

The office then the job was through.

The work was hardly work at all;

He'd take his ink and pens each day

And copy out a reference book;

Beginning with the letter "A".

For such an oddly pointless task,

He'd earn a decent rate of pay.

~o~

Initial joy gave way to gloom;

He feared that this was just a fraud.

Four sovereigns for such basic work

Appeared to be a huge reward.

Despite his doubts, all seemed as planned,

The copy work went perfectly.

Thus eight weeks passed in solitude;

He'd almost reached the letter "B"

He daily thanked his lucky stars

For such an opportunity...

~o~

Then Jabez sighed, quite overcome,

He'd been to work that very morn,

And found, alas, the place was locked.

His countenance was quite forlorn.

He'd spied a notice on the door,

And wondered if we'd please explain.

He held a cardboard notice up;

We read the words which caused such pain;

"The Red-Headed League is now dissolved."

We tried to hide our mirth, in vain.

~o~

Our client rose in indignation,

Flushed right to his flaming head.

"If you both think my plight is funny

I'll find other help instead!"

"No, no," cried Holmes, and gently shoved

His flustered client back in place

"Your tale is really quite refreshing;

We would hate to miss this case

And you'd have laughed if you had seen

The stunned expression on your face"

~o~

"We're really quite enthralled by this;

I bid you, sir, to carry on.

I'd like to know what steps you took

To find out where your job had gone.

Describe precisely where you went,

And actions taken, if you please?"

Jabez Wilson looked at Holmes,

"I found a new address with ease.

It wasn't of the slightest use;

A shop for artificial knees."

~o~

* * *

_to be continued..._


	22. Humour 2

_a/n: a slightly different approach to "The Adventure of the Red-Headed League" Contains spoilers for that story. Chapter title is also from that story. Half way through writing this chapter, I was struck by the description of Holmes at the concert, his reaction to it, and Watson's interpretation. This means there are 2 verses in this chapter which do not quite fit with "humour" but which I did not want to leave out. Let me know what you think:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A shorter chapter this time. Still POV of Watson._

* * *

**A study in Humour 2**

**We are spies in an enemy's country**

* * *

Thus, Jabez Wilson's tale was told;

We had not heard the like before.

His main preoccupation was

The salary he'd see no more.

But Holmes dismissed this "small" concern;

His pay was more than most men get;

His gain was thirty sovereigns clear.

His other gain, lest he forget,

Was insight into many words

Which grace the English alphabet.

~o~

This story kept us entertained,

And seemed to break no major laws;

But Holmes suspected, underneath,

A deeper and much graver cause.

His curiosity was piqued

By Wilson's keen and helpful aide

Who'd taken such a humble post,

Quite happy to be underpaid.

While Jabez sat with ink and pen,

Who knows what evil plans were laid?

~o~

A brief description of the aide

Confirmed my partner's rising fears;

His eye lit up on learning of

A forehead scar and once-pierced ears.

Holmes then declared we must be prompt

In teasing out each vital fact.

He curled up in his chair and smoked,

(Three pipes, in all, to be exact ),

And after fifty minutes cried,

"Come, Watson! Now it's time to act!"

~o~

"If you can spare the next few hours,

We'll have some lunch and make a call;

Then spend a pleasant afternoon,

With music, at St James's Hall."

So, having found our client's home,

And asked directions to The Strand,

And studied his assistant's knees,

And checked which shops were close at hand,

And rapped upon the pavement twice,

We headed to the Hall, as planned.

~o~

If you had seen him there that day,

With waving hands and smiling face

I doubt you would have recognised

The ruthless sleuth-hound on a case.

A born musician was revealed,

A side so often kept suppressed.

And rarely seen by even those

Who knew the great detective best.

The calm which comes before the storm,

The mind restored by perfect rest.

~o~

The zeal with which Holmes seeks the truth

Is unsurpassed in crime detection,

And yet, he has a tendency

To melancholic introspection.

At times, I know, it's clear to see

Opposing forces rage within;

If recognised, in time, my friend

Seeks solace in the violin;

If not, I watch and wait as more

Destructive inclinations win.

~o~

The concert over, Holmes declared

A major crime in contemplation.

If I could meet him back at ten,

We'd foil this evil operation.

He warned that danger lay ahead,

Waved cheerfully, and then was gone.

He needed me to watch his back;

A friend he could depend upon.

My old revolver at my side,

At ten that night, the game was on!

~o~

* * *

_to be continued..._


	23. Humour 3

_A/N: A slightly different approach to "The Adventure of the Red-Headed League". Contains spoilers for that story, and the title of the chapter is from the same source. I decided the occasional serious verse did fit in with the genre after all, as the other definition of "humour" apart from "involving comedy", is "temperament". :-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson._

* * *

**A Study in Humour 3**

**As brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster.**

* * *

Heading out, one autumn evening,

Back to Baker Street again,

This time armed with my revolver;

(Hoping Holmes will soon explain)

Two more men have been invited;

Two cabs wait outside the door;

One's in banking; Merryweather,

The other represents The Law.

I wonder if my new companions

Know what they are needed for?

~o~

Holmes now buttons up his jacket;

Snatches up his hunting crop;

Leads us in those cabs through London;

Signals where the cabs should stop.

Out we get, and Merryweather

Shows us to some iron gates,

Down some twisting steps, and hallways;

Where we find a room with crates.

We have found our destination;

Everyone sits down…and waits.

~o~

Holmes surveys the scene by lamplight;

No-one else knows what will follow;

Merryweather raps the paving;

Startled, as it rings quite hollow.

Holmes replies with sharp rejoinder;

Merryweather's not amused.

Holmes then throws himself stone floor-ward;

Magnifying glass is used;

He studies every nook and cranny;

We observe him work, bemused.

~o~

Holmes completes his detailed survey,

Straightens up, with little fuss;

He has clearly solved the puzzle,

Maybe he'll enlighten us.

"Look at all these crates and boxes,

Tell me what you think they hold.

What precisely makes this worth

A plan so devious and bold?"

Merryweather whispers softly,

"Those fiends intend to steal our gold."

~o~

"The time for action fast approaches;

Find yourselves a good position.

And Watson? Your revolver please.

Danger lurks within this mission."

Revolver placed on crate beside me;

Taking heed of Holmes' remark;

The lantern shade is slid to cover;

All is black; no single spark.

I'm where I often seem to be;

Right next to Holmes, and in the dark.

~o~

My imagination wanders

In this cold, dank atmosphere;

I listen to my comrades' breathing;

Watching till our foes appear.

On the floor, a sudden glimmer;

Pin-point light, all else is black.

We observe in silence as

It widens to a bright-lit crack;

Then a hand, withdrawn in seconds,

Light is dimmed and then comes back.

~o~

A tearing sound, a slab turns over;

A clean-cut boyish face peers round;

Hauls himself into the cellar,

Satisfied with what he's found.

Then he signals his companion,

Thinking that the coast is clear.

Holmes springs out to grab his collar;

Gun and hunting crop appear.

Criminal is soon in derbies,

Cutting short his grim career.

~o~

Peter Jones, our helpful Yarder,

Takes charge of the prisoner now.

Captive seems quite strangely calm,

Leaves us with a sweeping bow.

Although his red-haired former sidekick

Disappeared beneath the floor.

Holmes expected this reaction,

Knows he won't escape the Law;

All he'd find when he emerged

Were three policemen by his door.

~o~

We return that autumn morning,

Holmes and I, to Baker Street.

Holmes supplies an explanation,

Now our mission is complete.

"I recognised that keen assistant;

Noted each dust-covered knee.

He had access to that cellar

While Jabez copied pointlessly;

And day by day and stone by stone,

His tunnel vision came to be."

~o~

I told him none could ever match

The skill with which he solved each clue.

And Holmes replied," It has some use.

_L'homme c'est rien-l__'oeuvre c'est tout."_

He yawned; his interest slowly fading?

Or simply as we'd stayed up late?

He needed cases such as this,

To challenge and invigorate.

When bored inaction claimed my friend;

I'd still be there…to watch and wait.

~o~

The End

* * *

_a/n 2: The quote in the last verse translates roughly as "Man is nothing; the work is all" , which Holmes attributes to Gustave Flaubert, writing to George Sand._

_The musician Holmes and Watson went to hear at St James's Hall in chapter 2 was Senor Sarasate. Purely by coincidence, today, I came across an article about him in, of all places, an 1892 copy of "The Strand Magazine".He was a violinist who travelled extensively, playing in every important European city. I quote "His distinguishing characteristics are not so much fire, force and passion, though of these he has an ample store, as purity of style, charm, flexibility, and extraordinary facility. He sings on his instrument with the utmost feeling and expression, and without any of the affectations which robs the playing of many violinists of all charm." _


	24. Tragedy

_a/n: I got carried away with this one a bit and am not entirely sure if it works :-) Please let me know._

_The worst possible fate which could befall Holmes and Watson. Not a deathfic._

_Many, many thanks to Westron Wynde and sagredo for letting me bounce ideas off them , and pointing me in the direction of useful books._

_Feedback would be very welcome, as always:)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Italics indicate a different period in time._

_POV of...well, that would be telling:)_

* * *

**A Tragedy in Southsea?**

* * *

A terraced house in Southsea, in the year of 'eighty six;

A brass plate on the railings and a red lamp by the door.

A room; a single occupant, whose morning's work is done;

A letter which this gentleman has long been waiting for.

~o~

This room has witnessed many things as clients seek advice;

From routine minor ailments to extremes of fear and hope;

And along with charts and instruments, which signify his trade,

A pen and scribbled foolscap next to well-used stethoscope.

~o~

He opens up the letter, quite unsure of what he'll find;

His precious latest manuscript; accepted or declined?

~o~

Rejection: disappointment flickers briefly in his eyes;

And he glances at the table where his scribbled foolscap lies...

~o~

* * *

_And__, back to eighteen twenty, this young doctor's thoughts return;_

_To a tailor's son from Dublin, setting foot on English soil;_

_He thinks about __events which shaped his past and led him here;_

_To his brass plate on the railings; "Doctor Arthur Conan Doyle"._

_~o~_

_This tailor's son, John Doyle, soon makes his mark in London town;_

_A young, ambitious artist with the drive to make it pay._

_Equestrian commissions and political cartoons;_

_And friendship with the best and brightest figures of the day._

_~o~_

_He entertains such authors as Charles Dickens, Walter Scott,_

_And __Thackeray; and artists, such as Hunt and E. Landseer._

_His acquaintances range widely from the patrons of the arts_

_To __Disraeli, at the start of his political career…_

_~o~_

* * *

The doctor shrugs and puts his precious manuscript aside;

He's far too old a hand at this to let frustration show.

He brushes past a bookcase where his childhood favourites lie;

The tales of R.M. Ballantyne and Edgar Allan Poe.

~o~

His practice work increases as his reputation spreads;

A second note arrives; the words a budding author dreads.

~o~

A neat handwritten letter tells the most unwelcome news;

His work is not, alas, the type this publisher can use...

~o~

* * *

_Charles Doyle, fifth son of John, is born in eighteen thirty two;_

_A household with artistic talent running through the blood._

_His three surviving brothers use this gift in different ways;_

_While Charles, quite overshadowed, leaves his London home for good._

_~o~_

_He travels north, to Scotland; __makes his home in Edinburgh;_

_A steady, unspectacular and quiet life is led._

_The daughter at his lodgings, Mar__y Foley, takes his eye;_

_In late July of fifty five the two of them are wed._

_~o~_

_He supplements his income from his uninspiring job_

_By illustrating children's story books and magazines._

_He's soon quite disillusioned with the course his life has run_

_And alcohol allows him to forget his straitened means…_

_~o~_

* * *

A busy life in practice means he should be quite content;

The medical career he sought is starting to succeed.

But as he puts his pen down, there's a little nagging doubt,

A different, better destiny; a life he's meant to lead.

~o~

Another day in clinic and a third response is waiting;

Less hopeful of success, he waits a minute, hesitating.

~o~

A third complete rejection, his much-cherished tale is spurned;

There are however several others still to be returned...

~o~

* * *

_In__ eighteen fifty nine; the couple's eldest son is born;_

_His__ mother; bright and bookish, and his father; quite detached._

_His reading is e__ncouraged from a very early age; _

_At six, his first adventure plot (a tiger hunt) i__s hatched._

_~o~_

_There are r__egular encounters with the literary world;_

_A storytelling mother and a library to raid,_

_He encounters many people__, (such as Mr Wendell Holmes)_

_A__nd a lifelong bond with many types of literature is made._

_~o~_

_His home becomes more crowded as his sibling number grow__s,_

_His mother makes the choice to send her eldest son away._

_At nine; he's sent to Stonyhurst, a minor public school;_

_His father can't afford the fees; his uncles pay his way..._

_~o~_

* * *

Day four, a bustling surgery, and visits take his time;

The price he has to pay as practice population swells.

He gets to know his neighbours; Doctor Watson lives close by.

(Another Southsea resident; the author, H G Wells.)

~o~

A break for tea; another formal message is brought in;

Will _this _confirm the point a new direction can begin?

~o~

Again, he sees rejection, in a brief, observant glance;

No publisher, so far, will give his manuscript a chance...

~o~

* * *

_Two years at Hodder prep school, then he starts at Stonyhurst;_

_And a new and daunting academic chapter now begins;_

_A confusion of new masters, subjects, friends to get to know;_

_(Among them, Patrick Sherlock and the Moriarty twins.)_

_~o~_

_A Spartan, rigid schedule follows Jesuit ideals;_

_A classical instruction where old-fashioned themes are used._

_He avidly devours the many books which come his way;_

_And finds that telling stories keeps his new-found friends amused._

_~o~_

_Although__ he fails to shine; his range of interests expand;_

_Sport, chemistry, the natural world; as five years come and go._

_His school books fill with bible study, Greek and Latin verbs;_

_His bookshelf fills with Chingachook, Dupin and Ivanhoe…_

_~o~_

* * *

The fifth day; thoughts of publishers and notes are set aside;

He has enough to think about with work and home and wife.

The Portsmouth Cricket Club now also occupies his time;

He's slowly getting settled in a pleasant, doctor's life.

~o~

A long and quite rewarding week is coming to an end.

On what precisely does his future happiness depend?

~o~

No message from a publisher is waiting on this day;

He puts the scribbled foolscap and his manuscripts away...

~o~

* * *

_What now? What further studies should he choose to undertake?_

_The logical next step is deemed a medical degree._

_Enrolled at university, five grueling years ahead;_

_Perhaps some doubts remain of where his future's meant to be._

_~o~_

_He meets some striking characters as student years go by;_

_An expert in forensics and how poisons can be used;_

_And a Doctor Joseph Bell, who claims that much can be deduced,_

_If a person's traits and manner are quite carefully perused._

_~o~_

_He tests a medication for neuralgia on himself;_

_Results are written up and published in the BMJ._

_He also writes more stories, which appear in magazines;_

_A useful extra income; student fees are still to pay…_

_~o~_

* * *

Day six, a more relaxing day, though always still "on call";

And time to think about his precious manuscript again.

He knows he's sent a copy to each firm of high repute:

But what about the less impressive ones which still remain?

~o~

There is time to be accepted; he's prepared to wait and see,

There are certain publications still beneath his dignity.

~o~

A note, like all the rest is hand-delivered to his door;

Again, he finds his story isn't what they're looking for...

~o~

* * *

_He learns to love the theatre, enjoys a social life;_

_He spends time playing cricket, and upon the rugby field._

_And still he writes short stories, though he barely understands_

_There's a deeper, finer reason than the income which they yield_

_~o~_

_As student life continues, his expenses rise again._

_He has to earn more money to continue his degree._

_He works as clerk to Doctor Bell, but hopes for something more;_

_An advertised position brings that opportunity._

_~o~_

_A taste for high adventure, on a whaling ship at sea;_

_Six months as ship's physician is enjoyably completed,_

_And while he meets that challenge, there is news from far off shores;_

_A tragedy at Maiwand with the British force defeated..._

_~o~_

* * *

The week begins, a steady stream of patients trickle in,

A Monday rise in business, many ailments long neglected.

He finds he's quite content while tracking illness to its root;

A reaction to the healer's art he had not quite expected.

~o~

A late, and welcome, ending to the morning's high demands;

The fate of his sent manuscript's no longer in his hands;

~o~

The final note rejecting his submission has been read,

He sighs; more pressing matters need his energy instead...

~o~

* * *

_His medical degree complete; a chance to see the world;_

_Adventures on a steamship in exotic far off places._

_Heat, tedium and fever take a constant weary toll, _

_With crocodiles and sharks amongst the perils which he faces._

_~o~_

_Cured, for now, of wanderlust, he hopes to settle down,_

_And still he writes for magazines, and diverse publications._

_He joins a former student friend, in practice by the coast;_

_Despite well-founded nagging doubts and clear cut reservations._

_~o~_

_To no-one's great surprise, this latest venture's doomed to fail;_

_The partnership dissolves and he is once more, left alone._

_He leaves, and heads for Southsea, two ambitions on his mind,_

_Progression with his writing; and a practice of his own..._

_~o~_

* * *

Decision time; all publishers have now returned his tale;

A noble aim at authorship or self indulgent whim?

He's proud of his accomplishments; his standing in the town;

But does he truly recognise what matters more to him?

~o~

A final late submission to the firm; Ward, Lock and Co.?

Or would one more rejection be too harsh a final blow?

~o~

And, what would change if this last bid at authorship succeeded?

A healer or an author? It was plain which one was needed...

~o~

* * *

_Southsea in nineteen thirty, an old terraced house is cleared;_

_A neat, precise consulting room, a red lamp by the door._

_Last occupant; a doctor who had served the townsfolk well,_

_A much mourned man who practised here for fifty years or more._

_~o~_

_A long-forgotten manuscript is picked up, just by chance_

_Old stained and tattered foolscap, part illegible with age._

_Just one of many papers, not deemed worth a second glance;_

_"A Study in Scarlet"-fading words across the title page._

~o~

_No thought to save this story; it is cast aside instead;_

_The first, and only, Sherlock Holmes;_

_Unpublished_

_And unread._

_~o~_

* * *

_The End_

* * *

_a/n2: books used in the above:_

_Conan Doyle:the man who created Sherlock Holmes (Andrew Lycett)_

_A Study in Southsea (Geoffrey Stavert)_

_The Doctor, the Detective and Arthur Conan Doyle (Martin Booth)_

_Arthur Conan Doyle; beyond Sherlock Holmes (Dr Andrew Norman)_

_All events mentioned in the verses above, re the lives of John, Charles and Arthur Conan Doyle, are based on fact; up to the point of not submitting the manuscript one last time. The people encountered by ACD were also real people, although whether they were the sole inspiration for his characters is a matter for speculation. One of the Moriarty twins was a mathematics "geek"-first name-James..._


	25. Parody

_A/N: How the account of "The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist" may have been written, if Dr Watson had read the works of Dr Seuss. Contains spoilers for that story._

_Originally suggested by Kiki Cabou._

_Thanks to AdidasandPie for read through and encouragement :-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me, nor do the wonderful rhyming patterns of Dr Seuss._

_POV of Dr Watson_

* * *

**Man with Beard and Two-wheeled Thing**

* * *

That case?

I do recall that case!

The season and the time and place!

We met the girl with two-wheeled thing

One morning; Baker Street; last spring.

~0~

We heard a sound we'd heard before;

A knock which knocked against the door.

She rang the bell, we heard it ring;

The girl who rode the two-wheeled thing.

~0~

The girl stood waiting in the hall;

A graceful girl, so fair and tall.

A lovely lady, all in all.

A lovely lady, quite distressed;

But elegant, and neatly dressed.

My friend and I were quite impressed.

~0~

She told us what she truly feared;

She told us of a man with beard;

A man with red moustache, who leered;

Her job; not quite as it appeared.

~0~

A note, a benefactor wrote;

He wanted her to see that note.

An uncle who had passed away;

A job with quite surprising pay.

A tempting governess position

Just perfect for a young musician.

~0~

The house: six miles from railway station;

A need for simple transportation.

How glad she was, she'd thought to bring

Her useful, sturdy two-wheeled thing!

~0~

One Saturday, like every other,

She headed out to see her mother.

But as she pedaled hard and steered,

Behind her rode a man with beard.

And when she left the Monday train,

She saw the man with beard again.

Oh, how she wished he'd not appeared;

That strange, persistent man with beard!

~0~

The next weekend, just as before,

She rode on two-wheeled thing once more;

And once again she clearly saw;

The man with beard

Had reappeared.

~0~

Determined this would soon be cleared;

She laid a trap for man with beard.

Instead of riding on, she veered

And waited till he reappeared.

But man with beard

Had disappeared!

He'd really, truly disappeared!

~o~

A friend?

A foe?

A would-be beau?

This lady was engaged, you know!

~0~

She told her boss what she had learned;

He seemed, sincerely, quite concerned.

Her heart beat fast, her stomach churned;

As man with red moustache returned.

His amorous advance was spurned.

~0~

So, off to spy the land I went;

To learn what all those actions meant.

I hid beside the lonely track

And watched that lovely girl ride back.

Then, from a nearby hiding-place;

The man with beard rejoined the chase.

I did not get to see his face.

He rode away towards the Hall.

I did not see his face at all.

~0~

And, heading home,I made a call;

And found who'd rented out the Hall

~0~

I'd helped my friend.

I'd helped the case.

I knew who'd rented out the place,

And Holmes would be impressed with me;

He'd know how useful I could be.

~0~

I told my tale.

I told it all.

I told him, standing in the hall.

I told him, by the kitchen door.

I told him everything, and more.

I told him as we climbed each stair.

I told my story everywhere!

I told him in the sitting room.

~0~

His comments filled my heart with gloom.

~0~

"You have not helped us solve this case!

You did not clearly see his face!

You waited in a faulty place!

So what, if he approached the Hall?

You have not helped this case at all!"

~0~

I felt quite useless, sad and small.

I had not helped his case at all!

~0~

I really, truly tried my best;

And tried to smile at Holmes' request.

He told me not to get depressed.

~0~

Our lovely lady sent a note.

We worried at the note she wrote.

The man with red moustache was near;

Her boss had made his feelings clear;

He held that lovely lady dear.

In fact he said

He'd like to wed.

~0~

So, Holmes himself went down to see

If he could find out more than me.

~0~

He came back home, the worse for wear,

With quite a dissipated air.

I checked him over, carefully;

A cut and bruise were there to see.

What explanation could there be?

~0~

"The local inn seemed just the place

To find more clues and solve the case.

I let some useful talk begin,

Then man with red moustache walked in.

He hurled abuse, then raised his hand;

I answered, so he'd understand.

I finished what he tried to start,

I've knowledge of the boxer's art.

He traveled home in back of cart."

~0~

"Although that fight was lots of fun;

I did not get much business done.

So neither of us really won.

No victory

For you and me."

~0~

Another note and deeper trouble.

We headed down there, at the double.

~0~

Oh no!

Oh woe!

The worst we'd feared!

The lovely girl had disappeared!

An injured driver on the ground.

Our lovely girl could not be found!

No single sight!

No single sound!

~0~

The man with beard

Then reappeared.

~0~

He knew precisely where she'd gone;

The reason she'd been set upon.

"She's at the Hall."

The game was on!

So, off we went, he led the way;

We hurried there without delay

And hoped that we could save the day.

~0~

The girl, we found;

Was gagged and bound.

Her mocking captors stood their ground.

~0~

A white-haired man, in priestly frocks

Just smiled at us-the wily fox!

The man with red moustache stood by,

A gleam of triumph in his eye.

"You're late!

Too late!

You're far too late!

This girl is in a married state!

This girl is mine, and her estate!"

~0~

But Holmes stood firm and loudly said,

"You cannot force this girl to wed!

She loves another man instead!

This girl, who rode the two-wheeled thing,

Shall choose who buys her wedding ring!

You really can't!

You should not dare!

You cannot wed her anywhere!

You cannot wed her here nor there;

Inside nor in the open air!

Not in a church!

Not in this Hall!

You cannot wed this girl at all!"

~0~

The man with beard,

Then reappeared.

~o~

"You will not wed this girl!

You'll not!"

With that, he fired a single shot.

~0~

The man with red moustache bled red

And tumbled to the ground; not dead.

~0~

Come beard.

Go beard.

Hide beard.

Show beard.

~0~

The man with beard

Had disappeared.

A man without a beard

Appeared.

~0~

The lovely girl was at a loss;

The man with beard had been… her boss!

~0~

The local policemen soon appeared

The driver seemed quite well;

I cheered.

The priest, we heard, had been unfrocked

So wedding paperwork was blocked.

~0~

We learned what these three men had schemed;

Her uncle had been rich, it seemed.

Far richer than the schemers dreamed.

They'd played their cards to see who'd wed

The girl, and gain her wealth instead.

~0~

The man who'd sometimes worn a beard,

And disappeared,

Then reappeared;

Had fallen for the girl and feared

His evil friends would have their way;

So followed her, with beard, each day.

So, it appeared

The man with beard

Had tried to get his conscience cleared.

So, all in all his aims were good;

He'd done the very best he could.

~0~

Because of this, we hoped the court

Would make his prison sentence short.

He really was a decent sort.

~0~

The other two

Both clearly knew

They'd spend a lot more time in jail.

Their actions were beyond the Pale.

~0~

The girl, relieved she wasn't wed,

Then wed the man she loved instead.

A rich and happy life was led.

~0~

That case?

I did recall that case!

And later, by our fireplace,

We'd sit and chat about that case;

The one with girl and two- wheeled thing;

We'd hear a knock, the bell would ring;

We'd wonder what this knock would bring,

Prepared for almost anything.

And off we'd go,

Adventuring!

~0~

~0~

And thus,

My friends.

This story

Ends.

~0~


	26. Angst 1

_A/N: Slight spoilers for "A Study in Scarlet."_

_Yes, I know Lemon Zinger started this series off with her "Study in Angst" but I thought I would add to this genre, too. You may well have deduced by now that she has handed the entire project over to me :-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A drabble._

* * *

**A Study in Angst 1**

**After Maiwand**

* * *

A hopeful British surgeon

In a hopeless battle:

The Berkshire lads kept fighting

To the last death rattle.

So many fellow soldiers

On the high plains scattered;

A sniper's jezail bullet

And a future shattered.

~0~

A talented physician

Whom no Fate protected;

A fever-ridden cripple

Whom the boards rejected.

The cries of dying comrades

In his dreams repeated;

His sense of purpose vanquished

And all hope defeated.

~0~

Returning home to London

Brings no satisfaction;

He pictures years ahead

Comprised of bored inaction.

He knows that Fate is fickle

And quite unforgiving.

It takes tremendous courage

Just to keep on living.

~0~


	27. Angst 2

_A/N: slight spoilers for 3GAR. Watson seemed a more straightforward subject for angst; but I decided I couldn't leave Holmes out altogether..._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Holmes_

* * *

**A Study in Angst 2**

**After the gunshots**

* * *

Logical deductions based on scientific principles;

Finely honed conclusions with no element of doubt.

Thoughts progressing smoothly as all evidence is analyzed;

~o~

Yet logic disappeared when Killer Evans' shots rang out.

~o~

Motives, thoughts and actions gleaned from step by step discovery;

Linear enquiries reach a satisfying end.

Every random piece is put in place and studied carefully;

~o~

All thoughts were turned to chaos when a bullet struck my friend.

~o~

A calm and measured outlook is at all times clearly preferable;

You cannot work with judgment and emotion both at once.

Nothing's less productive than unnecessary sentiment;

~o~

There was nothing calm and measured in my furious response.

~o~

An air of cool detachment suits my world view fundamentally;

Reliance on another carries far too high a cost.

My consulting work allows me to deduce quite independently;

~o~

I can still recall those seconds when I thought my friend was lost.

~o~

Careful observation makes the future quite predictable;

Anticipating action means I know what lies in store.

Little should appear to change the picture unexpectedly;

~o~

A single act of violence shook this theory to the core.

~o~

I haven't been transformed by one event of almost tragedy;

You will not find I'm suddenly a sentimental fool.

I still adhere to principles of science-based integrity;

~o~

But now I know exceptions can occur to prove the rule.

~o~


	28. Angst 3

_A/N: and some more Watson angst (poor man!) This time a 221B (as devised by KCS ) referring to "The Final Problem"_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_POV of Watson._

* * *

**A Study in Angst 3**

**After Reichenbach**

* * *

A physician in practice develops an instinct;

A strong intuition if something is wrong:

It might be a look, or a word or an action ;

A sign or a symptom which does not belong.

~0~

I ignored my own instinct on hearing that message;

Returned to the village, left Holmes on his own.

It appears I'd learned nothing from years as his partner;

I had left him to face Moriarty alone.

~0~

I took at face value my comrade's reaction;

I ignored the alarms ringing loud in my head.

He, of course, saw straight through such a simple deception;

He wanted me far from all danger instead.

~0~

As an ex army surgeon, I live by the notion

That the last thing you do is abandon your friend;

We were fighting our longest most difficult battle;

I just did not see how this struggle might end.

~0~

So, I left; I deserted my dearest companion.

(Every detail is clearly impressed on my brain.)

He was resting quite calmly, not far from the torrent;

And yet he had known we would not meet again.

~0~

I discovered the truth in one heart stopping moment;

Returned to the falls; saw his case and his letter;

Read his words, cried in vain to the depths of the chasm;

He had called me his friend; he deserved someone better.

~0~


	29. Supernatural 1

_A/N: Hallowe'en seemed a reasonable time to post this. Holmes and Watson get involved in a unique and spooky case._

_Thanks to Elerrina Star for encouraging this:-)_

_I do not own any of the characters mentioned, or nearly mentioned._

_Watson's POV_

* * *

**Chapter one-We need some help from you**

* * *

It was late on a cold October evening;

A thick autumnal fog was rolling in.

In Baker Street, a cosy fire was blazing:

I wrote my notes; the Great Detective played his violin.

~0~

A rattle from the cobbled streets disturbed us;

I stood and twitched the curtain out of place.

I cried, "My friend, I think we may have clients."

Holmes brightened at the prospect of a new intriguing case.

~0~

We knew we could rely on Mrs Hudson;

She hurried to the door and showed them in;

And when I saw the guests, who stood before us,

I dropped my pen; my friend of course still held his violin.

~0~

I moved towards my trusty old revolver;

A touch of caution seemed quite justified.

A hound of almost Baskerville proportions

Barked noisily in greeting; four companions at his side.

~0~

A closer look and apprehension faded;

Connections with that moor seemed quite remote.

A wagging tail, black spots on fur of chestnut;

No hint of eerie howling and no phosphorescent coat.

~0~

A red-haired girl then caught my full attention;

She wore a rather fetching purple dress.

A gentleman in white stood close beside her.

Her beau, perhaps fiancé, was my educated guess.

~0~

A short, short-sighted lady dressed in orange;

A scruffy youth attired in shabby green.

His face, it seemed, had not been near a razor;

As strange a group of clients as my friend and I had seen.

~0~

The gentleman in white spoke up politely,

And apologised for calling round so late.

A complicated problem had ensnared them;

They needed our assistance and could not afford to wait.

~0~

Holmes bid them settle down on floor and sofa,

While Mrs Hudson served a tray of tea;

Then, leaning forward, bony fingers steepled,

He asked them quite precisely what the problem seemed to be.

~0~

They'd met a nice old man who owned a mansion;

A fairground and an old abandoned mine.

He'd called this gang of five in desperation.

His next few words, it's fair to say, sent shivers down my spine.

~0~

Each night, for many weeks, this man was haunted

By every ghostly figure you could name.

This kindly white-haired man had seen such horror;

An innocent entangled in a dreadful ghoulish game.

~0~

Holmes pressed our guest for more specific details;

Precisely what had woken him each night?

"The worst of hell-bound visions from your nightmares;

From werewolves through to vampires (with no sparkly dust in sight.)"

~0~

"Our friend is near the end of his endurance;

He cannot take more nights of living hell.

If we don't help, he'll lose his lovely mansion;

And leave behind his fairground and abandoned mine as well."

~0~

Holmes briskly deemed the tale, "Just stuff and nonsense!

This tale of ghouls and phantoms can't be true.

Your words, however, serve to pique my interest;

Tomorrow we'll set out and see this ghostly business through."

~0~

We bid Good Night; I packed a few essentials;

I knew I'd have to watch my comrades' backs.

A toothbrush, lantern, picklock, mask, and jemmy;

My trusty old revolver…and some handy canine snacks.

~o~

* * *

_to be continued..._


	30. Supernatural 2

_A/N: congratulations to all who identified Holmes' visitors:-)_

_Thanks again to Elerrina Star :-)_

_I still do not own any characters mentioned, or almost mentioned._

_POV of Watson_

* * *

**Chapter two-we're ready and we're willing**

* * *

Next morning, we were ready, bright and early.

At eight, our friends arrived; we headed out

And found a brightly painted horseless carriage

Which held an air of mystery; no shadow of a doubt.

~0~

So, off we went; I had the strangest feeling

That things were not the way they ought to be:

All objects seemed much brighter, yet much flatter,

As though the world had changed to two dimensions down from three.

~0~

The landscape, rather oddly, kept repeating;

A dozen times, we passed the same old farm.

And yet we were not travelling in circles.

This rather strange phenomenon evoked no small alarm.

~0~

Holmes' features seemed much simpler and much sharper;

His coat had lost all subtle shades of grey.

Delightedly, he studied all the details,

"Dear Watson, this could prove to be a fascinating day."

~0~

We left behind the grime and fog of London

And rattled through the English countryside:

A place where Nature blooms in all her glory;

Or, if you're Holmes, the place where dark and dreadful deeds reside.

~0~

I soon got used to clearer, bolder colours;

And passing that same farm a few more times;

While Holmes described, with several fine examples,

The perils of the village and the worst of rural crimes

~0~

At last, we saw the mansion in the distance;

A grim, stark silhouette against the sky.

With gnarled old trees and rocky outcrops scattered;

The old abandoned mine and fairground entrance loomed close by.

~0~

The carriage stopped, we set out for the mansion

As wisps of greenish vapour swirled around.

Holmes walked with man-in-white and red-haired beauty,

I followed on with scruffy youth, short girl and giant hound.

~0~

A cloud of bats brushed past our little party;

My startled comrades scattered left and right.

The scruffy youth leapt up, to my amazement,

And grabbed his canine friend, who picked him up and held him tight.

~0~

We caught our breath; walked on, and reached the doorway;

A gentle white-haired man stood waiting there;

A rosy-cheeked old lady stood beside him;

You could not find more harmless looking people anywhere.

~0~

Holmes asked if they would give their kind permission

To look around for any hidden clues.

The couple smiled and said we had their blessing.

"Please wander where and when you like. Go any place you choose."

~0~

Before I stepped inside that grim old mansion,

I glanced back at the old abandoned mine.

Deep shadows fell across the empty fairground;

And once again a shiver worked its way along my spine.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	31. Supernatural 3

_A/N:The third and final chapter in this (not very ) spooky saga..._

_Extra points if you spot a line from Shakespeare:-)_

_Thanks once more to Elerrina Star :-) and to all who have read this, or read and reviewed, anonymous and otherwise :-)_

_I own none of the characters I mention, or almost mention. But I am grateful to those who do._

* * *

**Chapter 3: we know we'll catch that villain.**

* * *

We set off in a single file of seven;

Holmes led the way across a stone-flagged floor;

Huge portraits seemed to watch our every movement,

And lifelike suits of armour lined the dim lit corridor.

~0~

I thought I glimpsed a figure in a doorway;

Was that a face against a window pane?

Such tricks are caused by strong imagination,

I tried to quell the pounding of my heart, alas in vain.

~0~

We reached, a few yards on, the mansion kitchen;

And spotted glowing footprints near the range.

Holmes, red-haired girl and beau moved close to study

The footprints which stopped right against the wall; they thought it strange.

~0~

Behind us, dog and scruffy youth were busy

Assembling quite a tower of bread and meat.

Distracted, I observed with admiration,

How quickly they consumed what seemed impossible to eat.

~0~

I leant against a section of the fireplace,

Heard levers grind, turned round, and as I'd feared:

A brand new, print-free flagstone lay before me

And Holmes, white clad young man, and red haired girl had disappeared!

~0~

Aghast, I called for Holmes, but all was silent.

I stared at my companions; horror-struck;

I'd clearly set a hidden switch in motion,

And wondered what dear Holmes would say of my infernal luck.

~o~

We had to find the friends I'd caused to vanish;

The orange-clad short lady led the way,

(As soon as she had found her missing glasses:

This seemed to be a fairly common reason for delay.)

~o~

We hoped to find the entrance to the cellar:

Our friends, we thought, were trapped beneath the ground.

They might be hurt; we had to find them quickly.

A sudden inspiration: we could use the friendly hound!

~o~

A mask, which Holmes had worn, was in my pocket;

The hound could use the scent to find his tracks.

To start with, he was not enthusiastic;

Until I waved in front of him, my bag of canine snacks.

~o~

He sniffed the mask, and headed for a doorway;

Then bumped his nose against a pair of feet.

We watched him raise his head, with apprehension,

He'd found, by chance, the most alarming creature he could meet!

~o~

Yes, man's best friend had found an angry werewolf,

Who growled and raised his hands above his head!

I stood and stared in horrified amazement;

And wished I'd stayed by cozy fire in Baker Street, instead.

~o~

I found I could not flee the snarling creature;

The reason for delay was quite far-fetched:

My legs, though spinning, caused no forward movement;

I only made good progress when my arms were both outstretched.

~0~

All thoughts of search and rescue were abandoned;

We fled back down the flagstoned corridor.

Fast xylophones played softly in the background;

We sped across the hall and hurtled swiftly through the door.

~o~

Alas, the wolf man closed the gap between us;

It seemed there was a chance we'd lose this race;

But luckily, we reached the empty fairground;

And thus began a long and pointless rollercoaster chase.

~0~

A vampire from the depths of Transylvania

Joined wolf man when we left the ride; we ran:

I've been in many tricky situations;

I'd rate this up with lonely moors and wild Afghanistan.

~o~

We pelted past the Ferris wheel and dodgems

(The hound acquired hotdogs and candy floss.)

We reached the old abandoned mine, exhausted;

I stood with hound, short girl and scruffy man; quite at a loss.

~o~

A dreadful rumbling sound began beneath us;

What horror lay below our quaking feet?

The werewolf and the vampire kept advancing;

The rumbling grew much louder; what new peril would we meet?

~o~

The boards which closed the mine burst loudly open;

A battered miner's cart rolled down the track.

Eliminate impossible solutions;

Improbably; my partner, red haired girl and beau were back!

~o~

Relief beyond our wildest expectations!

We turned from deep despair to rising hope.

No time to waste; we had to take swift action;

Holmes leapt down from the mining cart, complete with coil of rope.

~o~

The hound and scruffy youth were used as decoy;

Disguised as lady wolf and vampire dame;

The red-haired girl stood just within the entrance

We waited either side, with rope in hand, to start the game.

~o~

The hound with scruffy youth came, skirts a flying;

The werewolf and the vampire close behind;

The red-haired girl attracted their attention;

They raced across the entrance, unaware of what they'd find.

~o~

We pulled the rope quite taut and felled both monsters,

Then wrapped the rope around and pulled it tight;

At last we'd get to see what kind of creatures

Had taunted that poor couple and disturbed their sleep at night.

~o~

Holmes studied both assailants very closely

Then moved in close and grabbed the werewolf's hair.

Mask off revealed the rosy cheeked old lady,

Who fixed us with a not so nice and gentle angry glare!

~o~

The second prisoner also was no stranger;

The white-haired, kindly owner of the mine.

"I'd hoped a haunted house might make some money,

If I'd not met you meddling kids, this would have worked out fine!"

~o~

"I'd run up debts that I'd no hope of paying,

And had a loan shark's deadline I must meet.

I hired those pesky kids to back my story,

Not call for reinforcements from two friends in Baker Street."

~0~

We headed back to London; task accomplished;

We had no inclination to remain.

I watched the world return to three dimensions;

Quite sad to see the colours change to subtle hues again.

~0~

Our case was solved! A cause for celebration!

A slap-up meal at Simpson's with our friends,

All thoughts of ghosts and phantoms now forgotten.

And with this joyful scene, I do believe, my story ends.

~0~

* * *

End


	32. Suspense 1

_A/N:Many thanks to Ennui enigma, Lemon Zinger and medcat for nudging me back into writing more for this series. And a huge thank you for those I have plagued with PMs over the past few months. You know who you are, and what it has meant to me:-)_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Point of view? I will leave you to decide..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: chapter one**

** Supper for two**

* * *

A table by the window,

Booked at Simpson's in the Strand,

Prepared for two, yet occupied by one.

The clock discards a minute

With each movement of its hand;

The time arranged for supper, now long gone.

~0~

No note of explanation,

No small messenger, no word,

No inkling why his comrade is delayed.

He sits and smokes and wonders

What distraction has occurred:

What incident has left his friend waylaid.

~0~

Outside, the light is fading

As he lists the reasons why

A man in his position might be late.

He spots the Evening News' stand

From the corner of his eye;

And, suddenly, is not prepared to wait.

~0~

He is up and out in seconds,

Headline news is starkly clear;

"Yard baffled by the Colonel's bold escape!"

As he hails the nearest cabman,

There's a growing thread of fear;

And an awful, dread suspicion taking shape...

~0~


	33. Suspense 2

_a/n:Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Point of view? That would be telling..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: chapter two**

**A room for one**

* * *

A long neglected terraced house

Stands silent in the gloom;

All joy and grace abandoned at the door.

A bound and weary figure,

In a dank, decaying room,

Lies huddled on the unforgiving floor.

~0~

A rapid change of fortune,

On this cold autumnal night;

A wholly unexpected twist of fate:

Surprised and overpowered

In a brief but brutal fight.

A prized possession now, or useful bait?

~0~

The sound of hooves on cobbles,

Then the front door creaking wide;

Impatient footsteps, hobnailed boots on stone.

A stocky little henchman

Throws some meager scraps inside,

Then leaves his helpless captive quite alone.

~0~

Hours pass; more hurried footsteps

Reach through fitful, broken sleep;

A fleeting spark of hope lights troubled dreams.

Then rough hands grip each shoulder

And the pain runs fierce and deep,

As, in the feeble light, a knife blade gleams...

~0~


	34. Suspense 3

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Point of view: still not saying..._

* * *

**Study in Suspense: chapter 3**

**House Call**

* * *

A modest house in Kensington;

His friend, no longer there;

He strides through every room in frantic haste.

He halts with some impatience

By the doctor's empty chair;

He knows there's precious little time to waste.

~0~

A folded scap of paper,

With a misspelt, scrawled address:

He smoothes the crumpled note with shaky hands.

A plea to "fetch the doctor",

From a patient in distress.

He sighs and, all too clearly, understands.

~0~

A lure, a ruse, a spider's web

To trap his trusting friend;

A healer to the heart and easy prey.

Suppressing dark and dismal thoughts;

On how this trail might end,

He heads through London's streets without delay.

~0~

A terraced house, a cobbled street,

A poor, neglected place;

He looks around, no sign his friend is there.

But as he nears the doorway,

All the colour leaves his face;

A dreadful scream rips through the cold night air...

~0~


	35. Suspense 4

_a/n:Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Same point of view as prevous chapter._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: Chapter four**

**House Call 2**

* * *

A heedless, careless, headlong rush

Propels him through the door;

All logic care and caution cast aside.

Cool, calm deductive reasoning

Has served him well before;

Now years of loyal friendship override.

~0~

He finds no mortal enemy,

No tortured, captive friend;

Instead, with thankfulness he won't forget;

A bloodstained, tired physician

With an injured man to tend;

A sutured wound, a fractured limb just set.

~0~

The doctor turns his head

At this commotion close at hand;

And stares at Holmes in weary disbelief.

He learns about the journey made

From Simpson's in the Strand;

(Sarcastic overtones; profound relief.)

~0~

Apologies accepted,

For the wild goose trail he led,

They head for home; Holmes keeps a watchful eye.

At Baker Street at last;

In need of supper, tea and bed;

"We're home now, Mrs Hudson!"

No reply...

~0~

* * *

_a/n 2:In my defence, I never actually stated that the terraced houses in ch.2 and ch. 3 were the same one...:-)_


	36. Suspense 5

_a/n:Back at Baker Street, but someone is missing!_

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: chapter five**

**Supper will be very late...**

* * *

A pause, then Holmes calls out again:

He calls, alas, in vain;

Both tenants grow increasingly alarmed.

They understand precisely

What an enemy could gain

From threats that Mrs Hudson might be harmed.

~0~

Her kitchen tells a sorry tale;

A rhubarb crumble, burned;

A shattered mixing bowl beside the door;

A mess of spilled ingredients;

A flour bag overturned;

And muddy footprints smeared across the floor.

~0~

Holmes looks around intently

And examines every clue;

Holds up a grey soil fragment to the light:

An unfamiliar texture,

Not a native London hue;

He'll source it if he has to work all night.

~0~

A knock; the door is opened,

Lestrade is standing there,

With Hopkins at his side, he clears his throat.

"I am sorry to inform you,

I have dreadful news to share."

He hands the worried pair a blood-stained note...

~0~


	37. Suspense 6

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Thank you to my anonymous guest reviewer (and all the unanonymous ones, too!)_

_Meanwhile, back at that terraced house; the one with the knife..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense:chapter six**

**A knife blade gleams...**

* * *

A tired and battered figure;

Shoulder throbbing, sore and bruised,

Is quickly turned around, quite forcefully

To face a mocking Colonel,

Now triumphant and amused,

Delighted that his scheme went perfectly.

~0~

The Colonel moves in closer

With his sharp, long-bladed knife,

And looks his helpless victim in the eye.

Despite extreme discomfort,

And the clear-cut threat to life,

The prisoner stays impassive, head held high.

~0~

The knife sweeps down to cut

The rope which bound all limbs so tight,

The captors move their prize across the floor.

They cross a stone-tiled hall

And out to face the London night,

Then up, inside a cab, with padlocked door.

~0~

A shocked gasp from the corner

Means this captive's not alone;

Dim light reveals the Colonel's other "guest".

And, outside on the pavement,

Where raw rope-burned hands have thrown;

A note, complete with Governmental crest...

~0~


	38. Suspense 7

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me_

_Extra points if you spot a nod to Alfred Hitchcock:-)_

_Now, back to Baker Street..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense:chapter 7**

**A blood stained note...**

* * *

Holmes swiftly scans the writing;

The clumsy, blood stained scrawl,

The gilded edge and Governmental crest.

From childhood notes to Christmas cards,

This hand had penned them all;

"Tell Sherlock" was the simple, stark request.

~0~

"Young Hopkins found this paper,

Knew, of course, who it was for,"

Lestrade described the scene an hour ago.

"An empty terraced house

Had seemed inhabited once more;

With furtive figures moving to and fro."

~0~

"An injured factory worker

Had sent word to Scotland Yard;

He'd seen two men remove a third by force.

He'd watched from his rear window

As they'd dragged him, struggling hard,

And set off in a waiting cab and horse."

~0~

"We checked the house most carefully,

Found embers in the grate,

Fresh ropes, some scraps of food, a brand new lock."

Was Mrs Hudson with them?

Would their actions be too late?

No answer; just an ever-ticking clock…

~0~


	39. Suspense 8

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_And back to the mysterious cab..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: chapter 8**

**A late cab ride through London**

* * *

An unexpected journey,

On a chill October night;

Two tired, unwilling passengers inside;

They gaze at one another,

Still bewildered at their plight

And shaken by this jolting, jarring ride.

~0~

The first to move is Mycroft,

Stretching carefully through pain,

He pats his fellow prisoner on the hand;

"Good evening, Mrs Hudson,

It appears we meet again;

Your evening, too, did not go quite as planned?"

~O~

A frightened hitch of breathing,

Then a small, defiant voice,

"Indeed, a change of schedule, as you said.

Our hosts were quite persuasive,

I'd have much preferred the choice

Of staying home in Baker Street, instead."

~0~

Then silent contemplation,

Both reflecting on their fate,

Uncertain what their captors had in mind;

As their driver raised his whip

To urge a faster, frantic rate;

Leaving home and friends and safety far behind...

~0~


	40. Suspense 9

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A double length chapter. For AdidasandPie:-)_

_I can only apologise for the liberties I am about to take with the title of the genre._

* * *

**A study in suspense:chapter 9**

**It's surprising what you can deduce from a muddy floor...**

* * *

Four set out, determined

To investigate this crime;

Equipped with samples, notes and microscope.

Every second matters,

They are running out of time,

As Mrs H and Mycroft's only hope.

~o~  
They reach the terraced house

And find the erstwhile prison cell;

Holmes throws himself face-down upon the floor.

"This soil is quite distinctive,

I recall the texture well;

The same was found by Mrs Hudson's door."

~o~

Outside to scan the pavement,

Where the blood-stained note was found,

Half trampled in the cobblestones and mud.

Then microscope, then silence

As Holmes smokes and paces round,

Then cries out, once he's sure he's understood.

~0~

"If I am not mistaken,

An extraordinary case!

And one of our most interesting trails.

There's sand, crushed shells and seaweed

In this sample, just a trace:

A combination found in coastal Wales!"

~o~

"It's clear to all, I fear,

They've both been kidnapped by Moran;

Which is, as I recall, an Irish name.

The Bradshaw, quickly, Watson!

We must formulate a plan,

And sabotage his evil little game!

~0~

"Now, imagine I'm the Colonel,

And I want to work in peace,

And keep potential enemies at bay.

One way of making sure

That all attempts to find me cease

Is spiriting their loved ones far away."

~o~

"The sailing route to Ireland,

Starts, of course, as you may know,

From Holyhead, in Anglesey, North Wales.

We have to act right now,

If we intend to end this show,

And rescue them before their vessel sails"

~o~

"He'll take them there by carriage,

We must catch them up by train;

The game is lost by he who hesitates!

The place where we will battle

Our old enemy again;

The suspension bridge across the Menai Straits!"

~o~

* * *

_a/n 2:history and geography lesson:Anglesey is an island off the North Wales coast, separated from the mainland by 2 bridges, the water between is the treacherous Menai Straits, Holyhead is a town at the furthest point of the island, from whence you can sail to Dublin._

_The Menai suspension bridge was completed in 1826, designed by Thomas Telford, and was used by coaches-cutting down the London to Holyhead trip from 36 to 27 hours._

_The Britannia bridge, was designed by Robert Stephenson, and opened in 1850 as a route for the railway-the Chester and Holyhead Railway, with the trains running inside a wrought iron tube. _


	41. Suspense 10

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_The race is on..._

* * *

**A Study in Suspense: chapter 10**

**better to travel hopefully...**

* * *

The cab halts at a cottage

In a dark, secluded lane;

A carriage and fresh horses standing by.

Some scraps of food, then onwards

Through the countryside again,

Till dawn begins to light the autumn sky.

~0~

Attempts at conversation

Help the pair to pass the time,

Distract them from their current dismal plight.

So anecdotes of Baker Street,

And tales of gruesome crime

Accompany their journey through the night.

~0~

Meanwhile, heading northwards,

On the London-Chester train;

Four gentlemen are on their way at last.

Sure plan or reckless gamble?

All to lose, or all to gain?

Perhaps, alas, too many hours have passed.

~o~

And back on board the carriage;

Hope of rescue's almost gone;

The doors are bolted, windows locked and barred.

As Mrs Hudson bravely

Hides her fear, and chatters on,

She thinks of Watson, Holmes and Scotland Yard...

~o~


	42. Suspense 11

_a/n: Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_Will Holmes, Watson, Hopkins and Lestrade reach the bridge in time?_

* * *

**A Study in Suspense:chapter 11**

**dire straits...**

* * *

A Welsh train can't go faster,

Moved by force of will alone;

Though four on board appear to think it can.

A change of train at Chester

On to dangers yet unknown,

Hell bent on getting there before Moran.

~0~

The Colonel's trusty sidekick,

(One Hugh Williams from Llanfair...)

Knows every useful short-cut, twist and turn.

The bridge looms up before them

In the frosty evening air;

Perhaps, for two on board, there's no return.

~0~

Eight hooves hit metal roadway

On the last part of this chase;

The carriage starts to cross above the straits;

Then Mrs H and Mycroft

Note a sudden change of pace

As Williams peers ahead and hesitates.

~0~

Three determined figures

And an over-toppled cart

Create a quite effective barricade.

Hugh Williams glances back

And notes with swiftly sinking heart;

A line of Welsh policemen and Lestrade.

~0~

A noise rings out which fills

Two weary captives with relief;

The welcome sound of Holmes' distinctive voice.

The Colonel and his sidekick

Gaze around in disbelief;

Recovering, the Colonel makes a choice.

~0~

He calls out in surrender,

Shoulders droop dejectedly,

Then drops back to the carriage door instead:

While Williams moves to cover him,

He drags a captive free

And holds a gun to Mrs Hudson's head...

~0~

* * *

_a/n2: the name of Hugh Williams' home town on Anglesey is shortened to Llanfair for the purpose of rhyming_

_The full name is llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerych wyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogo ch, which would not fit..._

_The name Hugh Williams is linked with the Menai Straits in stories of shipwreck. Have a look:-)_


	43. Suspense 12

_a/n : Holmes and companions do not belong to me. Many thanks to my guest reviewers-Grumpy old snake and anon. _

* * *

**A Study in Suspense:Chapter 12**

**"The British Government" makes a move...**

* * *

The tension rises sharply

High above the Menai straits;

All focused on one man, one loaded gun.

Poor Mrs Hudson struggles

While his henchman smiles and waits,

As move and counter movement have begun.

~0~

Moran with helpless hostage

Has the upper hand again

Till Mycroft Holmes decides it's time to act.

The carriage door flies outwards;

There's a startled cry of pain

As Whitehall boot and Colonel's arm impact.

~0~

The loaded gun goes flying;

Spinning off into the night

The Colonel tries in vain to keep his feet.

He staggers from the road

Still gripping Mrs Hudson tight

And falls where bridge and open spaces meet.

~0~

Some sounds provoke reactions

In the stoutest heart, it seems,

And turn the strongest voice to dust and ash.

Two current grim examples

Are a woman's frightened screams

And then; far, far below, a single splash...

~0~


	44. Suspense 13

_a/n:thanks to all who have read and all who have read and reviewed this tale. Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_A scream, and an ominous splash..._

* * *

**A Study in supense: chapter 13**

**221B Baker Street without a landlady? Surely** **not**...

* * *

A horrified, stunned silence,

For a heart beat's length, no more,

Then four rush in where most would fear to go.

Dire thoughts of death by drowning

Are not easy to ignore;

Whilst waters rage and tumble far below.

~0~

But then, two hands are spotted,

And the rail they're clenched around!

Eight eager hands reach down to render aid,

And, gently, Mrs Hudson

Is placed back on solid ground,

With much relief and thankfulness displayed.

~0~

Six friends return to London;

First class carriage on the train;

And breakfast served at Simpson's, Mycroft's treat.

Then three full, weary travelers

Set off by cab again,

Back home where they belong, to Baker Street.

~0~

~0~

_A rocky beach on Anglesey_

_A figure crawls ashore,_

_An angry, dripping mass of seething hate._

_He staggers to his feet_

_And curses Sherlock Holmes once more;_

_He vows revenge;_

_All other schemes can wait..._

_~0~_

_The End?_


	45. Family

_a/n: this was written originally for the prompt "three fandoms walk into a bar" by Capt. Facepalm, but fitted this genre as well._

_Holmes and companions do not belong to me._

_I may have borrowed a couple of other characters, too..._

* * *

**Three Moor Brothers**

* * *

An old country tavern, alone on the highway

An old painted sign at the door

A faded depiction of hounds hunting foxes;

A background of marshland and moor.

Inside: old oak beams; simple well-crafted furniture;

Benches set round a warm fire;

A genial landlord; indeed all a traveler

In search of some peace could desire.

~0~

One customer sitting alone in a corner;

A newspaper propped on crossed knees.

A pint of real ale on the table before him;

Some biscuits and Wensleydale cheese.

He shakes a wry head at the racier headlines;

Events are quite different down south.

A wealth of emotion expressed in one eyebrow;

He has no real use for a mouth.

~0~

He glances, askance, at a noisier patron,

Who's making a fuss by the fire.

A hassled young barmaid, assembling a sandwich

Is asked to stack higher and higher.

A loaf, maybe two is employed as she works

She appears to be feeling the strain;

But pleasing the client is part of her nature;

Yes, even a greedy Great Dane.

~0~

Her customer pauses, aware of the scorn

Which is headed his way from afar;

He giggles and waves at the judgmental figure

Then buys him a drink at the bar.

Two drinks and his sandwich are carefully balanced;

He heads for his critic, unfazed

Then cheerfully sits by his side, uninvited;

Two mystified eyebrows are raised.

~0~

A shrug and a crackle as papers are folded;

A nod to acknowledge his drink.

Resigned to small talk and inane conversation

He struggles to hear himself think.

Despite his misgivings, he's quickly absorbed

In stories of fairgrounds and ghosts;

Of vampires and werewolves and old haunted houses,

And villains disguised as kind hosts.

~0~

The favour's returned with the tale of a penguin,

Shorn sheep, and a trip to the moon;

A rabbit turned monstrous, mechanical trousers;

The evening flies by, all too soon.

Another round ordered, more exploits recounted

Of lighthouses, knitting, and more;

Then, in one split second, all eyes in the tavern

Are fixed on the ancient front door...

~0~

The door opens slowly, the atmosphere changes;

There's moorland and menace and mire

And in stalks a wanderer fresh from his hunting

His eyes mirror coals in the fire.

He glares at the bar and the genial landlord

Who moves to respond in a trice;

With hands slightly shaking, he pours out his order;

A triple malt whisky; no ice.

~0~

One gulp and it's gone, so a second is poured,

All drinks, it appears, on the house.

And even the talkative, cheerful Great Dane

Is sitting as still as a mouse.

The newcomer shakes off the fog of the hollows

And phosphorus burns in the air

He prowls through the tavern towards the two heroes...

And pulls up a large oaken chair.

~0~

He rests his front paws on the well-polished table

And sips from his glass and looks round

A sigh of contentment, a stretch of his haunches;

Gigantic wet prints on the ground.

The tavern relaxes, the tension is broken

And everyone's breathing again.

The hound eyes the stack of improbable sandwich

And grins at the nervous Great Dane.

~0~

The Dane isn't stupid, responds in an instant

And offers the snack to his guest.

Pastrami, tomato and onion rings vanish

The others are clearly impressed.

The barmaid approaches, quite heavily laden

With two further platters piled high

The smallest reflects on the whole situation,

Both eyebrows now raised to the sky.

~0~

The hound starts to talk, but no tales of adventure

Like those they'd recounted before,

Instead, bitter words of betrayal and murder

And fog rolling in from the moor,

And a lonely existence, apart from all others;

Chained up; always hungry; alone.

No eccentric companion, no scruffy young sidekick;

Just day after day on his own.

~0~

He knows that his life on the vastness of Dartmoor

Is nearing a terrible end;

He'd hoped for a glimpse of a kindlier world

And the chance of a drink with a friend.

The others join in, and the mood starts to lighten;

They tell of the things they have seen;

Of rabbit removal and cyber dog terror;

A sidecar, a mystery machine.

~0~

Of sheep which can balance in perfect formation

And mummies which rise from the dead,

And shops which sell wool and look pleasant and harmless

But hide dreadful secrets instead

The drink flows quite freely, the hound simply listens;

Each tale more bizarre than the last

And laughter and banter and cheer fill the tavern

As hours of enjoyment fly past.

~0~

Then faint comes a call from a far distant farmhouse;

The hound knows the voice, turns his head;

He sighs; his brief respite from shadows is over,

Bleak destiny claims him instead.

His hackles rise slowly, his coal black eyes smoulder.

He heads for the main tavern door,

One glance in farewell; then he's gone in an instant;

Returned to the fog-shrouded moor...

~0~

His friends, somewhat stunned by this sudden departure,

Are suddenly sobered and stilled

As tendrils of mist spread throughout the old tavern

And all becomes silent and chilled.

A low mournful howling distorted by fog banks

A stark scream of terror, a shout;

Then, freezing the blood, comes a pitiful whimper

As several sharp gun shots ring out...

~0~

_An old country tavern, surrounded by moorland,_

_A year has gone past in a trice_

_Two friends, with a stacked up, improbable sandwich;_

_And two double whiskies; no ice._

_A warm conversation, a quizzical eyebrow;_

_Tall tales of adventure abound;_

_And glasses are raised in an ancient tradition;_

_A toast to their lost brother hound._

_~0~_

End


End file.
